


Persistence

by Heathers (hbomba)



Category: Cold Case, Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 23,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbomba/pseuds/Heathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after Alex’s “death” Olivia still searches. Her quest leads her to Philadelphia consequently teaming her up with Det. Lilly Rush and the rest of the Cold Case squad. On a case fraught with twists, turns, and tensions Olivia is steadfast in her conviction to bring Alex home again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Blue Nowhere

NEW YORK CITY

Elliot pushed his chair away from the desk and groaned. 

“Get out of here.”

“Cap will kill us if we don’t get this done tonight.”

“I’ll do it. Just go.”

“Liv…”

“Go home to your family, Elliot.”

He stared at her, not so much confused but waiting for her to say something else to ease his conscience. She was holding him at arms length, making him read between the lines. Nobody is waiting up for me.

She could use what seemed like the longest day of her life as an excuse for her stoicism, but lately every day seemed to come with its own set of annoyances and obstacles that she was ill-equipped to deal with.

He hovered in the doorway. “See you tomorrow.” 

She kept her eyes down, too tired to look up from the stack of paperwork. “Yep. ‘Night.”

As her partner’s footsteps faded, Olivia exhaled. The act, as much as it was failing, required more upkeep than she had in the reserves. Elliot’s constant coddling since Alex’s death was honorable and sweet, but irritating all the same. 

She looked at the phone, wishing she had someone to call. Don’t wait up for me, she’d say reluctantly. Her lover would be groggy and Olivia would be able to feel her sleepy warmth through the crackling telephone connection. She pulled her hand away from the receiver. 

Sometimes she’d dial Alex’s number in the middle of the night and listen to the automated operator tell her she had made a mistake. Last week she dialed it and someone answered. Even phone numbers have second lives. 

She typed in the only number she knew better than Alex’s phone number. Her case number. It was habit now. She’d stare at the status and check the access logs, hoping to see movement. It was wrong, she knew, to be policing the police, but she was past the point of reason. 

The database was always fast this time of night, still she tapped her pen impatiently on the desk.

 

PHILADELPHIA

Nine years and a lye laced burial had leeched the evidence from Mary Marks’ body, Lilly cracked the case. She went from witness to witness collecting the facts that would eventually damn her man. Jerome Dixon had been stalking young Mary for a year and nobody put it together. But ten years after Dixon had set eyes on his prey, Lilly had pieced it together. Relentless like an itch in an open wound—it had to be scratched.

She sat—self-satisfied—at her desk, not ready to leave her glory at the office so soon. She was an honorable woman with pure intentions but damn if it didn’t feel good to solve a cold case.

“Detective Rush?” Lilly’s smile faded. “This just came for you.”

A manila envelope slid across her desktop.

“Thanks.”

She traced a finger along the neat cursive lettering, studying it. She tried to guess its contents, hoping for a thank you card or a happy family photo in spite of what she instinctively knew awaited her within its crisp confines. 

Another cryptic note? Another I did it, signed Anonymous? Couldn’t she be selfish just this once and bask in her victory longer than the length of the walk from central booking to her desk?

Maybe next time. She ripped open the envelope.

 

NEW YORK

Olivia sat on the countertop flipping through a tattered Guns & Ammo as she waited for the coffee to brew. She checked her watch when in all reality the time was of no concern to the detective. This was her life.

Brewing coffee at 1am—having already consumed the leftover 12 hour sludge after the unit emptied, reading Guns & Ammo, eating stale powdered donuts out of her bottom desk drawer and obsessively searching for Alex. Sometimes she’d skulk home for a few hours of sleep, but the crash room was just as homey in a pinch. It was a bland existence—one full of regrets, disappointments and dead ends. 

The computer beeped.

Olivia narrowed her eyes and hopped off the counter. Her search program hadn’t found any hits, Alex’s case file, on the other hand, was being accessed. A whirlwind of keystrokes sounded through the squad room as she correlated the IP address and set about tracing it. 

Three years ago she had no idea what an IP address was much less how to trace one, but necessity is the mother of invention and desperation was the detective’s greatest motivator. And so Olivia had deciphered much of the hacker lingo effectively demystifying the internet and as a result her police issue computer had become an invaluable resource. She knew the answers were out there, she just had to find them in the dearth of information. Alex was alive, contrary to what her file said, and Olivia would find her. 

A few pings later and Olivia had the address of the information-seeker.

Philadelphia P.D. 

Her first lead in months. She scribbled the user’s login ID and terminal number on a scrap of paper. The three fact finding missions prior had quashed the hope that abounded each time such an opportunity presented itself. And in those disappointments she was now certain that Alex had never set foot in San Diego, California, Tempe, Arizona, nor Portland, Maine.

“Philadelphia,” she whispered with an excitement that she’d assumed was gone for good.

____


	2. Signed, Sealed, Delivered

PHILADELPHIA

 

“Feel up to a gruesome twosome, Rush?” Vera asked.

Lilly rubbed her eyes. “Is that your coy way of asking if I’d like to accompany you to a crime scene, Vera?”

“Double homicide, another one of those gangland jobs.” He waggled his eyebrows, excitement over the case winning out over good graces.

“I can’t. I’m working on something…”

“Already?”

"Yeah,” she sighed.

“Fair enough…” The round detective put his hands up and backed away; a mock surrender to the blonde’s workaholic tendencies.

Lilly smirked and returned to sifting through the pile of meticulous notes—typewritten, collated, and referenced—complete with footnotes and headers. Overloaded, she lay her head on the desk and waited for it to make sense. 

What the hell did it all mean? Where was the cold case—a trifecta of murdered civil servants: two DEA agents (one undercover) and an ADA hypothetically at the hands of a New York drug cartel. New York. What the hell did that have to do with Philadelphia?

“Detective Rush?”

Lilly opened her eyes—skin tight jeans and criminal curves—definitely not Nick. She lifted her head, line of sight roving over the non-police issue belt with its empty holster, a clinging sweater/t-shirt combo, to the surly expression partially hidden by overgrown hair. 

The stranger brushed the bangs from her eyes. “Detective Rush,” she said again.

Lilly straightened. “Yes,” she squeaked before clearing her throat. “How can I help you?”

She glanced at the papers on the blonde’s desk. “Can we talk?”   
__

“So you’re telling me you came all the way out here because these people were your friends?”

“That’s the quick and dirty version.”

“This was your case,” Lilly looked at the file, “Livia Sandoval?”

Olivia nodded. “Look, I just really want some justice for my friends.”

“I’ll do my best, Detective.”

“You don’t understand.” Olivia slapped a hand on the interrogation room table. “This is dangerous. You need to know that going in—people have been killed for their involvement.”

“I’m not exactly convinced I have any jurisdiction over this case.”

“You must have opened it for a reason…” Olivia paced in front of the two-way. Lilly recognized the interrogation strut—she too was guilty of it from time to time but Benson oozed perpetual impatience.

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss that with you.”

“Look lady, I know the drill, but if you wanna play it like that, fine by me.” She slapped a business card onto the table and scribbled something on the back. “If you change your mind, I’ll be at this address for a few days.”  
__

“What are you doing?”

Olivia squeezed the cellphone between her ear and shoulder as she dumped her suitcase onto the spare motel bed. “What do you think I’m doing, Elliot?”

He sighed. “Why? I thought you were through with this crusade? I thought we talked about it.”

“I agreed to keep you out of it. Don’t ask, don’t tell, partner.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m doing my part, what’s your story?”

“Nevermind. Don’t tell me. Just… be careful.”

“I will.” She wrestled with a cellophane wrapper.

“I’ll give your regards to Cap’n.”

Olivia bit the Twinkie in two. “—And feed my fish, will ya?”

“I always do.”  
__

The televangelist hollered for her to repent. God himself was beating down her door. “Repent! Olivia! Repent, sinner!”

Olivia rolled over.

“Detective Benson, open the door.”

Squinting she sat up, bathed in the artificial blue light of stained glass and velvet backdrops flickering from the television screen.

The banging commenced anew. “Detective,” the voice outside her room called again.

She stumbled toward the door. 

“What time is it?” She wobbled in the doorway, shielding her eyes from the corridor lights.

“Six A.M.”

“And you’ve just decided that you want my help?”

“No, I decided that an hour after you left.”

“Well, thanks for calling.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

Olivia looked down at her ripped sweat pants and faded, oversized t-shirt. “I don’t think so.”

“Go change, I’ll wait.”  
__

The car rocked forward as Lilly set the brake. “We’re here,” she said in her quiet way.

Olivia rubbed the sleep from her eyes, squinting at the in-dash clock. A few hours had passed since the blonde’s predawn visit to her skanky motel room. At least she was gracious enough to let Olivia sleep while she drove. It had been a while since she’d awoken in a strange place in the company of an equally strange woman—not that she was strange in that odd, don’t ever call me again way, but Lilly’s familiarity was strange in and of itself. She peered at her companion before hazarding a glance out the window, ruefully hoping that she hadn’t said anything embarrassing in her stupor.

“What the hell is in Lancaster?”

“The post office responsible for the postmark on the anonymous letter I received yesterday.”

“Huh.”

“Just a little old fashioned police work.” Lilly smiled in a way that completely disarmed Olivia—a sly show of pearly whites with a side of irresistible twinkling blue eyes. “Just to be clear, Detective, your badge doesn’t hold much water in Pennsylvania so I’m afraid your involvement in this case can only be as a civilian.”

Olivia smirked. “Fair enough. Let’s do this thing.”  
__

Olivia stared, arms folded, at the corkboard plastered with WANTED posters. She wondered if postal workers ever ID’d anyone, because they sure as hell couldn’t identify their anonymous mailer. Not a one could say whether Anonymous was male or female much less height, hair or eye color. What a fucking waste.

Lilly fanned herself with the envelope. “I got nothin’.” 

“Surveillance tapes?”

“Probably, but we’d need a warrant and that’s not the attention we want at this point, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Good point. So, now what?”

“I don’t know,” Lilly sighed—an unusual display of exhilaration rather than defeat. “There’s a lot of information—“ she tapped the manila against her palm. “—I’m not sure I know where to start.”

“Are you going to let me look at it or what? I may be a civilian in Pennsylvania, but my Captain in New York seems to think I’m a decent detective.”  
__

An hour into their drive back to Philadelphia Olivia said it: “She wasn’t there.”

“She?”

The envelope while unremarkable to most was all but autographed in red magic marker to Olivia’s eyes. The handwriting was unmistakable—from the elegant loops and deep gouging crosses of t’s, to the careless afterthought of dots on her i’s. It was Alex. Unquestionably Alex. And Alex would never be so careless. She’d drive five hours out of her way to mail a letter if it meant hiding her location from the good or bad guys.

“The handwriting...it’s a little feminine don’t you think?”

Another smile—she could get used to that smile. “I never doubted your powers of perception.” Lilly’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel. “So how do you know she wasn’t there?”

“Every asshole with a television knows the first thing cops investigate is the postmark.”


	3. Postcards From the Edge

“The way I figure it ol’ Hector picked the wrong corner to be selling his wares,” Vera hypothesized as he sat on the edge of Will Jeffries’ desk.

“That’s original.”

Lilly dropped her feet onto her desk and tipped back in the chair, smirking at the men’s exchange.

“It’s not the oldest crime in the books,” Vera defended, “but it’s close.”

“So what’s Mr. Lovejoy’s story?”

“Turf war? Who knows what these guys are thinking when they’re hopped up on the latest, greatest invincibility cocktail.”

“What if he’s just an innocent bystander? Maybe he wandered in on Ortiz’s execution.”

The women exchanged a knowing look. “Who’re your vics?” Olivia asked abruptly.

Jeffries scrunched his face at the outsider and gave Lilly a look that spoke volumes. Who the hell is she?

“Will… what are their names?” Lilly Rush asked, ever diplomatic. 

“Hector Ortiz and Danny Love.”

Olivia flipped through Alex’s “anonymous” manifesto. She stopped, tapping her middle finger against the page and slid the sheet across the desk toward Lilly.

“We may be working the same case, guys.”  
__

Olivia was reluctant to share the file with the other detectives—she’d been pouring over it since Lilly finally gave it up during their drive back to Philly. And while the other detectives couldn’t find anything strange about her interest in the file, they didn’t catch the unusual amount of attention paid to the perfume masked beneath the sweet stench of paper and ink nor did they see her fingers tracing the cursive lettering or her eyes scouring each page for notes in the margin.

After a brief game of I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, the detectives sat in silence each pondering new theories. 

“The names were circled.” Three faces turned toward Olivia. Unnerved, she continued: “I thought it was just the cartel hierarchy but maybe she was trying to tell us about the hits.”

“So is Mrs. Anonymous our killer?”

Olivia wanted to defend Alex, Anonymous, whatever they wanted to call her, but she didn’t. There was a great strategy at play, a method to a madness that had no cure. And so she waffled. “I don’t know if that’s her agenda. Sure it’s bold, but why? What’s the link to the past?”

“Revenge? Could be she’s a cop with an axe to grind, justice for her fallen comrades, et cetera et cetera.” Vera sized her up.

“Nice to know we’ve established some trust, Nicky,” Lilly intervened.

“I’m just sayin’—“

“I know what you’re saying.”  
__

“Don’t let ‘im get to you… Nicky’s just…”

Olivia kicked a pebble as they walked along the park path. “I understand. The Boys Club is alive and well.”

“They're good guys—it’s just—they’re not used to…”

“Really, don’t worry about it.” Olivia sunk her hands into her ridiculously tight jean pockets as they approached the half-courts.

“Hey, hey it’s the 5-0,” a preteen bellowed.

“Hey, boys.” Lilly smiled good-naturedly as they approached the band of misfits. “We were wondering if you might have seen anything unusual Wednesday night?”

“Even if we did,” the dirty kid in the back of the pack spoke up, “we wouldn’t tell you. You think we wanna die?”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Are ya that old, lady? I said I ain’t telling you shit.” The troop of ruffians guffawed at the apparent leader’s defiance.

“Good one, Jimmy!” the short one in the front cackled.

The amusement faded away from Jimmy’s face as he glared at the turncoat. “You asshole.”

“Kid’s got a mouth,” Olivia mused aloud. “All right, Jimmy…” She took the basketball from his dirty hands and bounced it twice. “Make you a deal—” She bounced it again. “—if I make this jump shot you’ll tell me what you saw the night Hector and Danny were killed.”

“Are you crazy lady?” Jimmy crossed his arms.

“MJ couldn’t make that shot, Jimmy. White girl ain’t gotta chance.”

“Wanna bet?”  
__

“I feel bad.” Lilly finally took control of the uncomfortable silence that had filled her car. “We haven’t exactly had a chance to get to know each other.” Parking outside the motel, she looked over at Benson and saw her weary smile reflected. 

“I appreciate you letting me tag along…”

“Are you kidding me?” her tone lightened. “I couldn’t have made that jump shot.”

Chuckling, Olivia patted her thigh. “I’ve had to play that card a few times. Elliot—my partner—” she clarified, “—isn’t the pro he leads people to believe.”

Her chin dipped, eyes taking in the landscape of veins that decorated the strong hand lingering on her thigh. “Well, you’re good.” She cringed. The basketball, not the hand on my thigh, though that’s nice, too.

“Thanks.” The motor idled roughly. “I’d invite you in for a beer but my fridge is broken.” She peered at Lilly from beneath a curtain of bangs. “And warm beer isn't a good basis for any friendship.”

“And the Cheap N’ Easy Motor Inn seemed like such a fine establishment…”

“I figure, the company isn’t picking up the tab and I’m barely in the room enough to justify the big bucks.” Lilly’s eyes sparkled despite the darkness that hid her face from Olivia. Captivated momentarily, Olivia sighed. “I’m beat,” she pulled her hand away and gestured at the motel “I should—“

“Get some rest." Lilly's hushed voice—its conveyed kindness—tempted her. "I’ll call you if I hear anything from the guys.”  
__

Olivia collapsed onto the creaky bed. In hindsight, the big bucks might have netted a bed whose springs didn’t jut uncomfortably into her spine as she tried to roll out of the deep chasm undoubtedly carved into the mattress by the motel’s many sweaty, smelly and horny guests.

“Christ,” the fundamental betrayal of her self-appointed mission slammed into her chest. “What am I doing?”

Her neighbors who, she was sure, could hear everything she was saying with immeasurable clarity (as she heard their enthusiastic encounter the night before) were most likely not entirely convinced of her sanity now.

She sat on the edge of the bed, mind racing. What kind of game was Alex playing? Why put herself in jeopardy over a few skells dealing drugs for Velez in Philly? Every answer she speculated raised more unanswerable questions. Alex was frustrating her now as she had in the months prior to her “murder”. Always so headstrong and focused, The Cabot (as Elliot called her because “she’s her own Brave New World”) didn’t accept anything. 

Even as Olivia searched, she never imagined Alex to be scheming in exile and now that she was confronted with the mountain of research all she could do is scratch her head. Beaten at her own game. 

Sure, The Cabot was a good attorney, but Olivia prided herself at being one step ahead when it came to police work. For as many times as she’d ask for a warrant that Alex had already gotten, there were five other times where Olivia would weasel a confession out of someone they had no evidence on. 

It was a delicate balance. Alex had knocked the chess board over with her last move and now Olivia had no idea when or where the next move would present itself.  
__

Olivia groaned as another pair of headlights lit up her room and she wondered if she’d get any sleep in the state of Pennsylvania. A car purred outside her window, its exhaust fumes wafting in through the shoddy insulation. 

Flopping onto her back she waited for the insomniac to get back in their car and leave her in peace. Something scraped against her door. Slyly, quietly, she reached into the bedside table drawer to retrieve her service weapon, thoughtfully nestled beside the Gideon’s bible. 

She sat up slowly. Her feet met the gritty indoor/outdoor carpeting as she crept toward the door, gun in hand. She peered into the peephole expecting to see a distorted pervert attempting to gain entry into her room but everything was black—the peephole was covered. She stepped away from the door, fearing what might be on the other side for the first time. 

Her chest heaved, anxiety mounting. Footsteps retreated hastily, the car door slammed, and the engine revved. Olivia’s hands worked the lock—excitement flustering her movements—as she tried to open the door. She wrestled with the chain briefly and flung the door open. It bounced hard against the doorstop, undoubtedly waking her neighbors, as she chased the intruder. Poised to shoot, she jogged into the parking lot, gun trained on the sedan speeding away. 

But bare feet on concrete were no match for German engineering and defeat was swift. She held her sides, huffing as she stalked back to the motel room. She cased it, checking the bathroom, closets and under the bed making sure no one had slipped in during the melee. 

Sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, she ran her fingers through her hair. “Fuck,” she breathed.

The door creaked. 

Olivia’s head whipped up in response, gun not far behind. There, pasted in stark relief against the dirty door was a note:

 

GO HOME  
♥ (heart)


	4. Free Is A Four Letter Word

“Detective Benson?” Lilly unsnapped the catch on her holster and pushed through the door already ajar. “Olivia?” She set the coffee tray and paper bag she had been carrying onto the dresser and crept toward the bathroom, weapon drawn.

She nudged the door open with her foot. 

Olivia dropped her toothbrush in the sink and threw her hands up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

“Shit,” She whispered, lowering her gun. “Your door was open…” Lilly re-holstered her weapon unsteadily. 

“It was stuffy, I needed some air.” Olivia slipped past the other woman into the main room, feeling an acute need for air again.

“I am so sorry,” she breathed. “People just don’t leave their motel room doors open around here.”

“I’m generally better armed than intruders.” 

A contented look of amusement crept across Lilly’s face. “I brought you breakfast.”

Olivia eyed the paper bag. “I’m starving.” All graces aside, Olivia tore into the pastry as she sweetened her coffee. “Running makes me hungry.” She took another chunk out of the donut.

“I missed my run this morning,” Lilly admitted.

“You should have come earlier, we could have gone together.”

“I’ll have to remember that for next time…” The trill of a cell phone interrupted her thought. “Rush,” she answered.

Olivia watched as Lilly paced with great restraint. Deliberate footfalls—heel, toe, heel, toe—reverberated in the smooth sway of her hips. Truth be told, her strut was more reminiscent of an Italian supermodel than a hard-ass detective. Low rise pants pulled her eyes to Lilly’s waist as her words became a mumbled soundtrack. 

She spun on her heel and tapped the butt of her gun as she spoke: “We’ll be right there.”   
__

The women entered the squad room with purpose, Olivia’s long strides barely keeping her beside Lilly’s slighter, yet swifter pace. 

Jeffries breezed past, tightening his tie and Vera was not far behind. “It’s on your desk,” he said, tossing his jacket over his shoulder jauntily, dangling from two fingers like some rotund male model as he lumbered by. “I wanna know what it says.”

The men’s brusque exit left a noticeable void in the squad room. Lilly threaded through the space to her desk. She sat gingerly in her chair as she lifted the envelope from her inbox. Substantially lighter than the last and, predictably, the envelope did not bear the same Lancaster postmark as the one prior. Her eyes probed the nondescript manila for clues about its sender. No spots, no smears, no smudges. The same handwriting addressed Det. Lilly Rush and taunted Olivia Benson with each and every stroke of pen to paper. 

If she had any doubts, the note last night had vanquished them. Alex was playing cat and mouse and she couldn’t figure out the angle. 

“Well,” Lilly sighed, surveying the lone page from the envelope. “Let’s go find these guys before our vigilante does.”

“Given up on the postmark?” Olivia smirked.

“It can wait. I want to find these guys alive so we can connect the dots. I’m tired of being two steps behind.”

I’m with you on that.  
__

The first address was an inevitable bust: a flop house whose tenant—the illusive Johnny Jack—hadn’t been seen in over eight hours. The second address, however, held the macabre answer to his whereabouts. 

Johnny Jack and Frankie Velasquez lay face down on the sidewalk, Jeffries consulted with the coroner as Vera paced, fingers laced behind his head—undoubtedly contemplating the obvious similarities between the murders.

“Small world,” the blonde said as she released her seatbelt.

Slamming the car door, Lilly announced her arrival. Olivia stood behind the passenger door, watching their exchange from afar.

“What are you doing here?” Vera said gruffly.

“You wanted to know what it said.” She handed the paper to Vera. 

He stared at it blankly. “Sonuvabitch.”  
__

“The same black luxury sedan was seen at both crime scenes. The boys at the first scene ID’d a BMW, the old lady in the apartment across from the second scene thought it was a Mercedes—I’m going with the kids’ on this one.”

Dread settled in the pit of her stomach as she thought about the night before. She knew that captivity could do things to men… now she hoped that Alex’s freedom hadn’t done something to her as well.

“I think it’s safe to say that these are hit lists. The way I figure it, we have a problem… We don’t have long before ViCAP pings this as a serial crime and we get our hands tied.”

Vera gnawed on his fourth donut of the brainstorming session. “Does this woman want to get caught or what? Why warn us?”

“What if she’s not the killer?” Olivia said casually—hoping she was right—and sipped her cold coffee for effect.

“Then how does she know who’s going to die next?”

“Maybe she’s got a line into the organization.”

“That’s good,” Lilly tapped her pen on the desk. “And she’s trying to bring it down without getting killed,” she hypothesized.

“Why don’t we just go track down everyone else on the sheet?” Vera asked the obvious.

“There’s no order. The latest vics weren’t even on the original sheet.”

“And I, for one, don’t want to protect a gang of drug dealers from getting offed.” Jeffries leaned back in his chair.

“So…what? We just sit here and wait for the next letter?”

“Got a better idea?”

“The postmark. Anyone been to Reading yet?” 

Lilly laughed. 

“What?” Vera grunted.  
__

Lilly stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “I don’t think it’s coming.”

“It’s early.” It wasn’t. At least not for the normal waking world but to Olivia 11 o’clock at night felt like midday—things were just starting to happen. “You hungry? I could really go for a cheesesteak.”

Lilly started to decline, but her voice was drowned out by the buzzing of Olivia’s cell phone.

“Hold that thought.” Olivia held up a finger as she answered the phone.

“Liv, what the hell is going on?”

“Hey partner, I’ve missed you too.” She smiled at Lilly and stepped away from the cluster of desks.

“Don’t bullshit me—“

“Jesus Elliot, calm down. What’s wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong?”

“That’s a compelling question, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“DEA’s been sniffing around.” 

“Shit.” She ran a hand through her hair.

“It gets better…Hammond was here asking for you.”

“You didn’t tell him—“

“No, but Cragen’s on a rampage—and he wants to know where you are, too. I said I didn’t know.” Elliot lowered his voice. “He knows I’m lying, Liv.”

“Calm down. He doesn’t know anything and neither do you so stop freaking out. I’m on vacation.”

“Why are you willing to risk everything for her?” he scolded.

His tone was irksome but she was used to it. He’d never approved of their relationship. Alex was perennially the villain in his eyes—and her abrupt disappearance did nothing to quell this notion. 

“Trust me, this is different.”

“What if she doesn’t want to be found? Have you ever stopped to ask yourself that?”  
__

“I had a female partner once.” Olivia slumped and stared into her beer. 

“How’d that work out for you?” Lilly slurred. 

“It was different.”

Lilly nodded at the understatement of Olivia’s career. With no word from the guys, the women had given up hope that another envelope would arrive (and the midnight shift along with it.) Now they sat on wooden benches, looking at each other over an empty pitcher and half-empty pilsner glasses.

“What about you?”

“Scotty’s good, he’s not around much lately, though.”

“So he knows the value of vacation time, I take it. Unlike myself—” she passed her glass from one hand to the other before she spoke again. “Even when I’m on vacation I’m working.”

“Yeah,” Lilly looked up, head heavy. “Why is that?”

“The night Alex was shot, I was there. Elliot and I—we both hit the deck…”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself.” The clumsiness of her posture belied the lucidity of her words.

“Wouldn’t you?”

The blonde’s thumb squeaked down the side of her glass as she considered the question. “Protect and serve may be in our job description but self-preservation is an imperative of the human condition.”

Olivia’s hand slid across the sticky table to cover Lilly’s. “Aren’t we existential when we drink?”

Lilly smiled at Olivia’s brazen—and now infamous—wandering hand. Bloodshot eyes wearied from the hour and haze of smoke squinted at her. “We should go.”  
__


	5. Tooth & Nail

“1800 Franklin,” Olivia repeated as they rolled down the street. 

She tried to focus on the paper in hand to keep from being felled by the worst hangover in recent memory. Olivia massaged her temples and shielded her eyes from the unforgiving midday sunlight streaking through the windshield. 

When the bedroom door creaked opened at six o’clock Olivia was certain it was a cruel joke. Four hours of sleep netted amidst two deformed cats was not exactly what she was expecting when Lilly invited her in. 

Lilly’s couch was scarcely more comfortable than her smelly motel bed and the raspy purring that replaced the grunts and groans of her neighbors only slightly more palatable. Rounding out the misery was the shame of a morning after that lacked any real sin. Still there was guilt over something that might’ve happened had Lilly not studiously stayed at arms length as they stumbled into her living room.

Lilly cleared her throat softly. “This must be it.” 

The brakes groaned as the car slowed. The women focused on the crowd gathering at the corner and the mass of people spilling out into the street in front of them. The original commotion—whatever it was—was lost to the resulting furor. 

“Don’t stop,” Olivia said suddenly, fighting off a curious glance from the other woman. “Keep driving.” 

Instinct told her to sink into the seat, but she remained upright. Agent Hammond was dealing with a more pressing matter: two bodies, bloodied, executed lay on the sidewalk. Vera and Jeffries’ amiable ways noticeably absent, they were now embroiled in a turf war of another kind.  
__

“The feds are everywhere. They’ve hijacked our case.” Vera stomped into the room.

“DEA?” Olivia asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” Jeffries groaned as he fell into his seat.

Vera sloshed coffee haphazardly into a paper cup. “Some B.S. about it matching the M.O. of a coupla drug hits in New York. Now we can’t take a leak without these assholes asking us where we’re going.”

Lilly leaned forward. “What did you tell them?” 

“Don’t worry. Your precious cold case is safe. As far as they know we’re just the poor bastards that were catching when people started dying.”

Lilly settled back into her chair and shook her head. Olivia rubbed her face wearily. They both knew the case was no longer safe. In fact, it was looking quite grim for the duo. They both had their reasons for continuing the quest and Hammond’s presence was inextricably complicating. Lilly had a choice to make—Olivia had posed it to her an hour before—she’d either give Olivia and the case over to the feds or she’d withhold and jeopardize everything to solve the case. Olivia had preyed on her emotions. She wasn’t proud of herself, but… Desperate times…

She needed air. 

Olivia was half out of the chair when a booming voice glued her to the seat.

“Rush, Vera, Jeffries,” Lieutenant Stillman paused, regarding Olivia coolly. A cavalcade of men filled the room behind him. “This is Agent Hammond. I’m sure you’re all aware that the DEA has offered their help to solve the drug dealer murders. He’ll be using our squad room as home base for the duration of this case.”

The tall bald man boldly paced beside the bank of desks, arms clasped behind his back. “I’m sure you all think we’ve come to take over your case and you’re right.” The detectives shared a sideways glance, Vera punctuating the sentiment with an obscene hand gesture. Hammond slammed his fist onto Vera’s desk. “The DEA is taking this case very seriously and we’re asking for your help in closing it. It’s going to require cooperation at every level. Make no mistake, we are not here to steal the glory, our number one priority is ending this killing spree.”

Olivia tipped back in her chair and rolled her eyes. She’d been privy to a number of Hammonds The DEA is on your side sermons and there was little new material to be found in his oral meanderings that afternoon.

“And you,” Hammond pointed at Olivia. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Lilly,” the Lieutenant beckoned. “My office.”

Rush dutifully followed her commanding officer into his office. Her proud cadence was something to behold. Even faced with reprimand, Lilly stood tall, admitting no wrong-doing.

“Boss,” she started.

“Close the door.” 

Lilly peered out at the squad room. Men moved hastily around the room, moving desks, setting up equipment and displacing her friends and coworkers. She leaned against the door as the tumbler softly snicked into place. 

“Just because your partner is on vacation doesn’t give you the go ahead to take up with whoever walks through that door.”

“She’s a cop and a witness—“ The genteel tone that had worked so many times before, failed her now.

“I don’t care if she’s the New York police commissioner, she has no jurisdiction here. Her badge might as well be made of plastic.”

“What ever happened to professional courtesy?” Lilly folded her arms across her chest.

Stillman leaned against his desk. “I’ve talked to her Captain and as far as he’s concerned she’s on vacation.” He clapped his hands together. “There were no arrangements made between our departments so there is no professional courtesy to extend. From this moment on she’s a witness and that’s where it ends. No more Cagney and Lacey, Lilly. I mean it.”  
__

Sitting on Lilly’s stoop, sipping a mediocre Pinot Noir, it occurred to Olivia: This could only end badly. 

Numbed by red wine and the days’ defeat, Olivia let go. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Her shoulders slumped, succumbing to the weight of her words.

“It’ll blow over,” Lilly spoke into her glass before draining it. 

“I don’t think it will.” Olivia looked at the stars, their novelty not yet having worn off. 

“DEA will ride it until they get bored and we’ll be left with the unsolvables.” A casual shift and her thigh pressed against Olivia’s. “Trust me, it happens all the time.”

Not before scaring Alex off again. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

A soft clink as the empty glass was discarded. ”Hey,” Lilly breathed against her cheek. “We’ll close it out.”

Olivia turned. She was about to spill her guts, to drown in her good intentions and expel the entire star-crossed lovers story—from beginning to bloody end—when it happened: A cold palm cupped her cheek, stars sparkled in heavy lidded blue eyes, cherry lips pressed against her own and she was lost to the sweet and sour slide of Lilly’s tongue.

Olivia bowed her head. “Lilly,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, I just thought—” Guilty eyes looked away. Lilly exhaled. “You have someone else in New York.”

“Not exactly.” Olivia hesitated. “She’s here.”

Lilly’s head dropped into her hands. ”Oh god,” she mumbled. “I should have known.”

“Alex and I were…” When Lilly set eyes on her again, Olivia shivered, fumbling for words. She hadn’t spoke of Alex’s death—life—whatever, with anyone. Even Elliot tip toed around the issue, except when he deigned to chastise her for the crusade. She wasn’t ready to speak the words. Instead, she reached deep into her pocket and offered up the note—undeniable proof that Alex was alive, even if Olivia couldn’t say it aloud.

Lilly scrutinized the scrap of paper. “She’s alive.” It was said so matter-of-factly that Olivia thought the worst was over.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you—”

Smiling, Lilly shook her head. “And now dealers are dropping like flies and you don’t think she has anything to do with it?”

Olivia straightened. “And what, you think she killed ten people?”

“I think that we need to be open to the possibility that Alex’s role in this may be more than anonymous tipster.”

“Have you read her file, Detective?” Olivia snorted.

“A woman with her whole life ahead of her had it taken away. That’s a pretty good reason for revenge, if you ask me.”

“She’s not like that. Alex—she’s logical.”

“Calculating?”

“You’re twisting my words.” With that, Olivia was on her feet, towering over the other woman—an empty show of misplaced dominance.

“People change, Olivia. I’ve seen it in every case I’ve ever worked. You need to be ready for the possibility that when we find Alex, she may not be the woman you once knew.”

Olivia paced, each step stomping her frustration into the porch. “Don’t tell me what I’ll find.” Her finger wagged, her head—her whole body—shook in defiance. “She couldn’t—“

“What makes you so sure?”

“You have no right.” Olivia was close to tears, unable to articulate her reasons, her beliefs, what she knew to be the truth even with no proof to support her tenet.

“I have to be open to every possibility. Maybe you’re too close to the case to be objective.”

“Maybe I am, but that’s why I’m here.”  
__

Under the cover of darkness, she slumped in her car watching the women on the stoop. Set aglow like a perverse outdoor dinner theatre she’d watched the blonde make her move. 

Three years hasn’t changed much has it, Liv?

She never labored under the assumption that Olivia would wait for her so the curious expression she wore after their kiss had surprised her. Grief or guilt, she couldn’t say.

She felt the other woman’s embarrassment as she hid her face; she read her confusion as Olivia palmed her note, was riveted when the deception was revealed and overly-interested in the subsequent anger. Though she was unable to hear their words, the meaning was clear.

She recognized Olivia’s indignant expression, her defensive body posture, the trademark overcompensation in her strut as she walked away. She tried not to stare too hard, too long so that Olivia wouldn’t feel the weight of her gaze, and instead studied the other able bodied detective from afar. 

She let Olivia stalk off, a commendable decision of that she was certain. She was struck by the quiet fire that seethed just under the surface of the blonde detective. Olivia was unabashed about her anger, but this one—she was dangerous. 

As Olivia sped away—the squealing tires were always a nice touch, Liv—she pressed the glowing buttons. She watched as the blonde scrambled for her phone, the deep breath she took before answering, and catalogued it all.  
__

“Rush,” she answered.

“Detective Lilly Rush?” a woman’s hushed voice came in response.

Lilly plugged her ear as a car sped by. “Yes, who’s this?”

“I think you know who this is, Detective.”

“Where are you?”

“Save your questions. I don’t have much time. I need you to take Detective Benson off this case. Send her home, she doesn’t belong here.”

“With all due respect, neither do you. Aren’t you supposed to be keeping a low profile?”

“There are things you can’t possibly understand.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Look, why don’t you just come down to the station and we can talk about this in person.”

“I’m not a rube, Detective. But tell me, has that tactic ever worked for you?”  
__


	6. Splitting the Difference

The television’s tinny speaker crackled as she spun the primitive volume knob. 

“The police are working closely with federal agents to…” 

That was reporter-speak for The Feds have taken over the case and its sole purpose was to make the public feel more safe and secure and the cops less used and abused. 

Olivia flopped onto the bed. She wasn’t sure about the public, but she certainly didn’t feel better for their involvement.

So close. Three years and countless dead ends had left her with reasonable expectations of her fact-finding missions, but she had never been so close. Olivia regarded each new piece of information carefully, weighing it against the things she knew to be true, testing it before making her decision.

Now, everything she held true was cast over, colored by speculation and circumstantial evidence. Alex wasn’t a killer. She couldn’t believe the same woman that once objected to Olivia’s service weapon in her bedroom was so transformed during their separation. But as much as she doubted Alex’s uncharacteristic turn as vigilante, she also began to doubt the merit of her mission. 

What if Elliot was right? Maybe she didn’t want to be found. Maybe she was happy, finally free to start anew. Moreover, what if Lilly was right? What if Alex’s new life had changed her, corrupted her sense of justice and turned her into a killer?

A fist sounded against her door. Olivia rolled her eyes.

“Olivia,” Lilly commanded. “Open the door.” 

Olivia held a pillow over her face. 

“I know you’re in there, I can hear the TV,” she said, sounding disappointed that Olivia’s evasion skills weren’t better.

She threw the pillow at the door. “Go away,”

“We need to talk, Olivia.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Just open the God damn door.”

When Olivia finally surrendered, she flung the door open and stared at the woman darkening her doorstep. “What.” Her words were sharp, edgy. There was no question, just a statement that lingered between them, daring Lilly to respond. Sensing the impasse, Lilly tried to slip past her but Olivia slapped a hand against the door and held it against her side.

“Let’s just go inside and talk about this. Trust me.”

Her eyes swept over the blonde, her ruffled hair was starting to fall to her shoulders, its messy bundle conceding to the days’ events. Blue eyes implored her, cerise lips harkened back to temptation that had yet to subside when she spoke her name again. “Olivia.”

Sighing, Olivia dropped her arm. Lilly didn’t waste any time pushing through the door.

“Someone told me to send you home.”

“What else is new?”

“But I can’t.” Lilly sat on the corner of the bed.

Olivia folded her arms and looked unimpressed. “That’s good, because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sit down.”

“Just say what you have to say, Rush. Your manners are really starting to get on my nerves.”

“We need to talk about Alex.”

Olivia’s eyes flashed. “Get the hell out of here.”

“Just hear me out,” Lilly reasoned.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.”

“She called me.”

Olivia shook her head, her face a canvas of raw emotion. And then under the scrutiny of such a fierce conviction she felt betrayed. 

“She did it, Olivia. She killed those people.”

“She told you that?”

“Not in as many words, but it all points to her.”

“Get out.”

“Be reasonable. If you want to find her—“

“I’ve been doing this by myself for three years—I don’t need your help.”   
__

From the looks the junior agents gave Lilly when she nudged her way through the mass of black suits to her desk, it was pretty obvious that they hadn’t expected her return so soon.

“Get tired of playing Thelma & Louise?”

“You’re here late, Nicky,” Lilly said, smirking as she dropped into her seat.

“The fun never ends,” he yawned. “Another stiff.”

Lilly glanced at the agents eyeing her, steaming paper cups in hand as they swirled around her—like sharks deciding if need outweighed their want. “A hit?” she whispered.

Vera leaned forward conspiratorially. “Looks like the others,” he nodded. “Could be a copycat, though—just one vic and it was a woman.”

She scratched the mess of hair piled atop her head and made a face.

“You didn’t get a note, did you?” a voice behind her said.

She lurched forward as Jeffries squeezed her shoulder. “Easy,” he held up a file and sat on the edge of her desk. Lilly smiled unconvincingly as he set the file in front of her.

“No,” she said finally, shaking her head. “Not this time.” She called. Probably right after she killed that poor woman. Lilly imagined the bespectacled ADA wiping the blood from her hands with a crisp white handkerchief. Dignity at its most indignant. She stared at the crime scene photo.

“Miranda Inez,” Will Jeffries said. “She’s not from around here. We’ve got feelers out, but DEA is telling us she’s from New York.”

“Do you believe them?”

“Any reason we shouldn’t?”

Lilly remembered Olivia’s violent reaction to Hammond, and was overcome by another wave of suspicion. “No,” she shook her head, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”   
__

Lilly didn’t bother with the lights. She shouldered the door open and pushed her back against it as it closed. Flinging her keys onto the side table, she exhaled. One eye sparkled in the darkness. Her heels clacked as she crossed to the chair in the corner.

“Hey, handsome” she whispered into fur, a guttural purr her reply. She ruffled the cat’s fuzzy head and continued on to the bedroom. 

Staring at the ceiling, lying amidst cats and case files in her too-large bed, she went over it again. Something wasn’t adding up. 

Weariness won the battle leaving her subconscious to unravel the mysteries that she could not in her waking state.   
__

As Olivia strode into the squad room solo, Vera nudged Jeffries. She tramped past the mass of men and stood insolently before the one that commanded them all.

“Where is she?”

The bald man huffed and looked around. “Who let her in?”

“Where is she, Hammond?

“You know I can’t tell you that, Detective.” The quirk of his lips and the condescension in his voice riled her last good nerve.

“Tell me. You have to tell me where she is.”

“Even if I knew what you were talking about,” he looked at the room full of men gawking at them, “why would I help you?”

“She’s in trouble.” In her voice was naked defeat. He was her last hope and she’d sacrificed her last iota of self-respect to stand before him and ask for his help. Making it that much worse was the fact that he knew all of that and instead of pity, she was met with balls-out contempt.

“I wonder why that is, Detective? You put her in danger.”

“Please, just…tell me.” 

Finally, her quiet desperation cracked his smug, contumelious façade.

“I can’t. We don’t know where she is.”  
__

”She left the program two years ago. She couldn’t accept the life we gave her. She couldn’t let go, couldn’t move on, so she abandoned it. But then…she’s good at that, isn’t she?”

Tires squealed as Olivia stomped on the gas pedal. The concrete columns blinked by as she sped out of the parking garage. 

“Asshole.”

He knew something about the murders. He knew… What the hell did he know? What did she know? 

“Fuck.” 

She slapped the steering wheel and gripped it tighter. The car’s tires howled again as she took the corner to the on-ramp, engine revving as she raced onto the freeway.   
__

The weight of another body pressed her into the mattress. She sighed into her pillow as a mouth covered her neck. Hips pressed into her ass, grinding through blankets and sheets, pushing her deeper still.

 

A hand turned her chin painfully upwards, a tongue sneaking between her lips. She gasped as the hand that had held her face squeezed her breast roughly.

“Oh,” she sighed as a hand slipped into her pajama bottoms—between her thighs. “Olivia,” she moaned, bucking against the other woman’s hand.

And then she was wrenched onto her back, a thigh pressed against her. Sleepy blue eyes opened then, peering up at the woman on top of her. A shadow cast over her features and Lilly leaned closer trying to find her eyes in the darkness. 

The hand rubbed her harder, faster. “God,” she moaned. “Let me see you.” 

Lilly pulled on the other woman’s t-shirt. She tried to pull her into the light—but she was so strong. 

Floorboards creaked. 

Alex folded her arms, leaned against the doorjamb, and looked generally unimpressed. Lilly’s eyes fluttered, fixed on the glare reflecting off the blonde’s glasses as Olivia’s hand pounded into her.

She grunted, hips jerking, whispering the other woman’s name as she came.

And she was running, bounding barefoot on wood, on concrete, on gravel. Chasing the other woman—Alex. She felt light, she wouldn’t tire, she ran faster and faster but it was never enough. Blonde hair swirled behind Alex, whipping, snapping in the wind as she fled.

Olivia sat on the hood of her car and smiled impishly. 

“Inez,” she gasped, bolting upright fumbling for the lamp. The manifesto sat in her lap before her eyes had adjusted to the sudden, searing brightness. Her cell phone buzzed.

“Rush,” she answered, rubbing her eyes.

“Inez is dead,” the familiar voice haunted. 

“Yeah, I know,” she exhaled, ignoring the pang of guilt that filled her chest and colored her cheeks. “Wanna tell me how you do?”

“You think I did it, don’t you?” 

“What am I supposed to think?”

She laughed—a bitter expression, dripping with venom. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”  
__


	7. Path of Least Resistance

Tires protested—one last pathetic squeal as she turned into the motel’s parking lot. Her ears were immune to the howls and she felt little remorse for ignoring its pleas for mercy as the breaks grated when she pulled into the numbered spot. Olivia sat in the idling car, eyes fixed on the figure her headlights had captured. 

Lilly sat on her doorstep. She leaned against the door, legs stretched out casually as if blocking someone’s doorway was wholly acceptable in the state of Pennsylvania. The blonde shielded her eyes. Clambering to her feet, she dusted off her slacks as the engine clicked off.

It smelled of burnt oil and scorched rubber, of the fury that Olivia had driven it with. She slammed the door and hulked towards the paint-peeled door. 

“I thought we decided to go our separate ways.”

Olivia unlocked the door and threw it open. She ignored Lilly as she entered the room and began clearing her things from the dresser. A balled up sweater, a crossword half-finished, mismatched socks, a box of bullets—all tossed haphazardly into the small suitcase. 

“Going somewhere?” Lilly stood in the doorway, uninvited. Her voice was quiet, unassuming, and tender. It lacked the vim or vigor that Olivia craved. For what she wanted more than anything at that moment: A good fight.

“Home. I can’t do this anymore.”

“She called again,” Lilly blurted.

“Did she confess this time?” Olivia scorned. 

“Look, I know you’re pissed but I need your help. You know Alex, you know the case better than anyone and I know we can figure it out together.”

Olivia flipped the suitcase shut. “Is that your version of an apology?”

“Let’s just say there are things I regret,” she stepped across the threshold and pressed the door shut behind her. “And others I don’t,” she whispered. 

In that breath Olivia understood what she meant and industriously chose to ignore it.

“I’ll lose my job if I stay.”

Lilly cupped her cheek. “You’ll lose a lot more if you leave.”

“I’m not convinced helping you arrest an innocent woman will help my case.”

Her touch withered, her voice hardened. “She’s safer in custody than she is out there, Olivia. And, quite frankly, so are we.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Another victim—a woman—shot point blank like the others. Executed.”

“If you had ever met Alex you would know how ridiculous you sound.”

“And if you hadn’t?”

They stared at one another, both stubborn in their convictions. The fluorescent bug zapper sparked, flickering outside her window.

“I guess there’s only way to settle this. Give me that case file.”

Lilly smiled at the small victory. Olivia would stay to fight another day but the battlefield was far from level. Cabot, guilty or not, wielded an admirable power over the otherwise undaunted detective. 

Papers scratched as she flipped through the file. A few minutes later Olivia looked up. “Miranda Inez?”

Lilly nodded. 

“Shit.”

“What is it?”

“That’s his girlfriend.” Disgusted, Olivia threw the crime scene photo onto the bed. 

She shook her head. “I’m not following…”

“Velez,” Olivia paced. “Christ, I should have known.” Lilly stared up at her, still confused. “Miranda Inez was his girlfriend.”

“Do you believe me now?” Lilly felt righteous, justified, she felt damned good.

“Don’t you get it? If Inez is dead, Alex is next.”  
__


	8. Lost & Found

She didn’t “get it” but Lilly was content to watch the dark detective pace as she explained. 

“We tried to turn Inez after Alex was killed,” Olivia looked over at Lilly, panic flickered briefly in her eyes and she couldn’t stop from wondering if it was a conditioned response to talking about Alex or, if she genuinely felt the same anxiety remembering the events that had delivered her to that moment in time. 

“Didn’t bite?”

Olivia circled the photos of the dead woman in what looked to be—quite literally—an absurd attempt to get new angle on the crime.

“Didn’t blink is more like it. Something. There was something about her...” She leaned over the gore fanned across the bedspread and tore into a piece of pizza. 

What it would take, she wondered, for Olivia to lose her appetite. Brain matter hadn’t done the trick—

The motel phone brayed. 

Lilly eyed it suspiciously as Olivia was swift to snag the receiver from its cradle.

The greeting never came. Olivia stood next to the ugly pastel lamp, silenced. Her mouth still held the shape of words half-formed, unspoken, secreted by the interruption. She gripped the phone with both hands. It must have felt heavy then as the tangle of emotions worried her features. 

“Alex,” she whispered.  
__

“Please don’t say anything.”

Olivia drew in a sharp breath. 

“I need you to listen to me. I didn’t want to involve you in this, but your…” her voice hung there, “counterpart doesn’t seem to have much faith in me right now.”

She hazarded a glance at the other detective as Alex continued.

“I’m in trouble, Olivia. And, as much as I don’t want you involved, I don’t have the luxury of time right now.”

Focused so completely on her voice, Olivia became cognizant of the whoosh of traffic, rushing through the receiver when she paused again.

“I thought I had it under control but things are...” Alex paused, settling the emotion that had crept into her voice, “beyond repair.”

“Alex.” The name stretched on, elongated as is passed through her lips—two sharp syllables and a lungful of air but a whisper. 

“Don’t. I can’t do this if you talk.”

Olivia swallowed the lump in her throat and took a deep breath to stave off the stinging in her eyes and the sinking of her stomach.

“Get in your car and drive. Westbound I-70. I’ll be in touch.”

A click and the call ended as quickly as it had begun. The phone banged against the dresser as Olivia abandoned it. She rifled through the suitcase that she’d spontaneously packed earlier. The box of bullets jangled as she stuffed them in her pocket, the cool slide of metal echoed through the room as she checked her weapon’s magazine, wishing she’d brought her back-up piece.

Olivia snatched the keys from atop the television and strode towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” Lilly was on her feet. Close. 

“She’s in trouble.” 

She searched Olivia’s face, blue eyes darting over the confusion and panic written so plain and unremarkably on her olive skin. “I’m coming with you.”  
__

Olivia sped through traffic. It’d be a small miracle if they managed to get out of Philadelphia without having to persuade a baby-face traffic cop of their very important case. 

“What’d she say?”

Lilly gripped the door panel. The engine revved and Olivia jerked the steering column as they careened around another corner.

“Nothing.”

“She must have said something…”

“I-70. Which way to I-70?”

“Take I-76,” Lilly pointed at a sign as it flashed by.

Olivia never slowed, never strayed as she blindly sped into the night. Lilly admired—was utterly jealous of—the careless and unyielding loyalty she’d shown the other woman. Even with evidence stacked to the ceiling and the years that separated them Olivia was determined to make her stand. Was it proof of Alex’s character of her lasting impression? Or, was she Olivia’s greatest flaw? Loyalty—but at what cost?

“What?” Olivia snapped.

“What happens when you close the case?” she asked continuing to study Olivia’s profile.

“We go home.”

“That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?” Her tone was sharp and impatient.

“Three years is a long time.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.” 

“I just hope you’re ready.”

“Prepared, you mean?” she snorted. “You still think she’s guilty.” 

“And you’re so convinced of her innocence that you have a box of bullets in your pocket.”

Gritting her teeth, Olivia pressed the gas pedal to the floor and throttled the leather-wrapped steering wheel.  
__

They hadn’t spoken in over an hour. Traffic flowed freely on the turnpike and Olivia drove the car hard, weaving between the few vehicles that got in their way. 

“Aren’t you concerned that we haven’t heard from her yet?”

“She’ll call.”

“So, what…you’re just going to drive until we hit California?”

“If that’s what it takes.”  
__

“What if it’s a set up?” she said finally. “Drawing us away from the city, from other potential victims?”

“Into an ambush, you mean.”

“Admit that you don’t know where we’re going or what’s going to happen.”

“We’re all on the same side. I wish you could see that.”

Lilly’s lips parted, but no words came. She looked out the window at the passing trees, the yellow dotted line blinking furiously in the headlights as they sped to an unknown destination. She wrestled with reason, with a conviction that was too knotted up in emotion to trust anymore. 

Her cell phone lit up as it began to ring. Worry gilded Olivia’s face as the other woman held the phone apprehensively. One more ring and they’d both be undone.

“Rush,” she answered, her voice filled with contempt and impatience. 

“Take the Breezewood exit,” said an equally edgy voice.

“Where are you?”

“Take the next exit,” she said more insistently. ”Turn around. Go East.”

Olivia eyed the other detective.

“Breezewood,” Lilly said, covering the mouthpiece. “Turn around.”

The car swerved onto the exit ramp and sped toward the light. Traffic flashed past, colored metal reflecting the streetlight in a rainbow of combinations, the engine ticked—panting like a bomb—and smelled of burnt oil. When the light turned green Olivia stomped on the pedal and sped onto the overpass. 

“What kind of game are you playing?” Lilly chided.

“I hope one that keeps us all from getting killed.”

The car cornered again and accelerated along the onramp. Merging with eastbound traffic, she grabbed the phone. 

“Where are you?” Olivia asked, unable to hide the desperation in her voice. 

“Right behind you,” was her measured response.

With that the line went dead. High beams flashed in the side and rear view mirrors as the car behind them sped up and slipped into the lane beside them. A horn blared, as the car that was cut off registered its dissatisfaction with her driving. The BMW swerved in front of them and accelerated. The trees along the shoulder gave way to an orange construction barrier.

“The old turnpike,” Lilly shook her head as the tail lights in front of them drifted off the road, swinging by the reflective signs, ripping up grass as its back end swayed over the uneven terrain. “Don’t,” she whispered. And then more forcefully: “Olivia, don’t.”

The sedan shook as she followed the other car off the interstate. Gravel pelted the hood and dust obscured the road, blanketing the car. A snap and crash of metal in front of them as the gate barrier was thrown wide open. The remaining chain was just a lump under their tires as they pursued the other car. On the straight and narrow stretch the already overtaxed rental car struggled to keep pace with the luxury sedan.

The pavement was cracked and irregular and the car rattled as the chase continued. Trees lined either side of the abandoned roadway, grass encroaching on the crumbling shoulder and through cracks in the old turnpike. The car shook—as if it would break apart at any moment. Gravel bombarded the undercarriage of the car and the noise was overwhelming.

Lilly held onto the door as Olivia pushed the car faster still. “This is crazy.”

The check engine light cast Olivia in crimson shades. She’d been driving in the red for hours and it had finally taken its toll on the economy sedan. Still she didn’t let up, doggedly following the two brake lights streaking ahead of them. The red glow brightened and faded from sight as the car in front of them spun around to face them.

Olivia jammed the brake pedal with both feet and jerked the wheel. The car spun, its engine cutting out as it shuddered to a stop in front of the Sideling Tunnel.

Alex was out of her car before the dust had settled. Olivia wrestled with her seatbelt and kicked open her door. Lilly fought the dizziness she felt, stumbling out of the car onto the deserted road. The glare of the headlights blinded her momentarily. She held a hand up as her eyes adjusted. A silhouette ran towards them and despite being unable to make out her face, eye or hair color, Lilly was quick to register the tell-tale shape of a gun in her hand. 

She drew her weapon on the other woman. “Drop it!” Lilly shouted, hands shaking.

“They’re coming.” Alex’s eyes were wide with warning. Two sets of headlights barreled towards them. “Olivia, do something.”


	9. Sum of Years

Adjusting to the sight of Alex half-hidden in the shadows, Olivia was paralyzed by the anguish she’d denied for so long. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Olivia,” Alex said again.

Dust billowed, settling on the hood, glowing in the headlights. Gravel sparkled like constellations at their feet. Breathless, Olivia fought the oppressive the tide of emotions.

“Lilly,” she said finally, her voice not sounding quite right. Olivia stepped between the women. “Put it down, Lilly,” she gestured with a gentle hand.

“I have to take her in, you know that.”

“Bigger picture,” she flipped the snap on her holster open. She held her gun against her thigh and pointed at the cars racing toward them with her other hand. “We’ve got a problem.”

A quick glance over her shoulder and Lilly was letting up, relaxing her stance and lowering her weapon. “Fine, but we’re taking her in once this is settled.”

“If we live through this, you can take me wherever you want.”

The smirk Alex wore was reminiscent of her arrogant lady lawyer days. A lifetime separated her from the past—But some things never change, do they? Upon closer examination, Olivia saw the same vulnerability and worry she wore before every verdict and every deal. Once, mastered—hidden so easily, tonight they shone beneath the starlight.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away. Infinitesimal were the ten feet that separated them, now. Fear mingled with exhilaration. In as little as a minute they could be dead. How appropriate that it might all end here, she thought.

If she closed her eyes she could feel Elliot standing beside her, choking up, her heart wrenching itself as Alex slid from the government vehicle like the Phoenix, sovereign to her exile. She relived it all there—standing on another deserted stretch, gravel grinding beneath her feet, tears in her eyes, the same words still stuck in her throat.

Two sets of blue eyes burned into her—one fearless, the other…

Screeching tires and exhaust fumes heralded their arrival. Alex sprinted into the tunnel, Olivia took cover behind the front wheel well, and Lilly crouched at the rear of sedan. The sounds of inevitability besieged them: the click of doors opening, groaning shocks as weight was unburdened, gravel scraping as feet shuffled, settling onto the aged and uneven asphalt. 

A breathless whisper: “How many?” 

Olivia pressed her back against the warm metal and concentrated on their sounds. Two steps forward, something in Spanish—“Finish it,” she translated. 

Rustling from the tunnel, the front of the BMW shook and then she heard it: the unmistakable sound of shotgun shells being chambered. Had they been surrounded? 

“Alex,” she hissed.

Lilly peered around the bumper, headlights blinding as she squinted out their numbers. The cold, clean snap of metal and two shots echoed into the night. The first whirred past the bumper, the other ripped through the back tire. 

Lilly cried out, crumpling to the ground. “Five,” she grunted, holding her thigh.

Two quick breaths—like a swimmer preparing to dive into the depths—and Olivia popped up, firing three quick shots before ducking out of sight again. A grunt and messy fall confirmed her kill. 

Four.

She spared a glance at Lilly who, on her stomach, emptied her gun at their ankles. Howling, followed more shouting before the order: “Kill them!”

Lilly fumbled for another clip, fingers trembling as they searched her duty belt. Blood welled up from her thigh; she pressed a palm against it and cried out again. Footsteps advanced upon them. Olivia’s next round of shots were in vain—all missing their targets as her gun clicked impotently. 

“Alex!” She shouted this time, the urgency of their situation finally setting in.

Bullets rained onto the asphalt as the box collapsed in her panicked grip. She tried to load the magazine, but the spastic shaking of her hands made it more difficult than she could have predicted. 

“Keep pressure on it,” she said, the direction was obvious but words were the only thing that still fueled the illusion of control.

A glimmer in the darkness of the tunnel and shots zipped past. Cheek instinctively pressed against the ground, Olivia counted feet. Three men still standing, a fourth was down, bloody but not dead, the fifth—definitely deceased. 

Another round—different caliber—howled overhead.

“Jesus Christ,” Lilly growled, teeth gritted.

The men were crouching now, waiting for the sniper to exit the tunnel. Lilly tossed her gun. It rattled like a toy sliding between the women, across uneven terrain, sounding insubstantial in their time of need. She nodded at Lilly, snatching up the proffered gun. 

Before she rose again, Olivia spared an instant for prayer—that Saint Michael would keep her safe. Fucking Elliot. There wasn’t time for superstition. If she avoided getting shot in the back, she didn’t owe a patron saint a beer… Just Elliot. Just as a prisoner finds God as they are strapped to the Chair, Olivia found faith in her partner’s beliefs as she stared down a more uncertain fate. 

She put another man down even as footsteps advanced on her from behind. She winced, even as she fired ahead, waiting for a muzzle to press against her skull.

When she dropped to her knees again Alex was next to her panting and an arsenal lay between them. It was hard not to focus on the impetuosity that set Alex’s skin aglow, the smug expression that asked her if she liked the gift of guns, or the intoxicating proximity. 

Olivia swallowed hard. “Help her.” She nodded at the other detective.

Lilly shifted, eyeing Alex, and then the pile of artillery. “I’m fine.”

“You need to tie that leg off.”

She stood again and the shotgun exploded with a boom and another man went down. She dropped back and reloaded.

“Tourniquet, Alex.”  
__

Alex inched toward the other woman, each wary of the other’s intentions. Her arms stretched between them, settling cautiously on Lilly’s belt. 

“I’m just going to—“ Dipping her head, Alex unbuckled the other woman’s belt. If it weren’t for the searing pain she felt, Lilly might have smiled at her shyness. She tugged and Lilly lulled forward before thumping back against the car. Alex flinched. “Sorry.”

Alex worked the belt free from her waist, discarding the accoutrements of the Job in a neat pile as it slipped free. The familiarity she handled each item with was not surprising considering…

Olivia swore and discarded an empty handgun. Windows exploded as three more shots zipped through the sedan.

Alex paused, awkwardly assessing the wound. Lilly’s palms pressed into the bloody mess on her leg, her pale fingers stained, the stench of copper hanging hot and angry in the air between them.

She slipped the belt under Lilly’s thigh, quickly reaching between her legs to retrieve the buckle before she fastened and tightened it. They grimaced in unison as the belt cinched off the blood flow.

“How’s that?” she said finally.

Lilly studied her, from the angle of her jaw to the secrets hiding in the shadows of her eyes. And it was there that she saw the same uncompromising loyalty Olivia had shown for her. It was more subtle than Benson’s balls-out passion, but it was there: quiet and proud.

The fingers flexed around her wrists, the question still lingering on Alex’s face. Four more shots pinged into the hood, and ricocheted off the bumper.

“Fine,” her resignation was barely heard over the booming fire fight.

Nodding, Alex released her. The women studied one another, neither bothering to disguise their motivations from the other. 

From mistrust to envy, Lilly’s face was a portrait of disappointment. She could see it now, Alex was no killer, Olivia was no longer lonely and that, she thought with a great regret, made her the third wheel.

Olivia dropped next to them. “I’ve got four shots left,” she panted. “Anything left in your trunk?” she nodded at the BMW.

“That’s everything.”

“How many?” Lilly rasped.

“Two—they’re barricaded—I can’t get a clean shot.”

 

The would-be partners exchanged a look that spoke volumes. Any cop unfortunate enough to have drawn their weapon has felt the emotion that bubbled between them. Transience and regret for not having done more to prevent death. Had this shot hit its mark or that shot put him down they might not be giving consideration to how they wanted to die.

Inhaling, Olivia stood again, firing two quick shots through the passenger window. The ricochet told Lilly she had missed and instinctively she held her breath. Alex closed her eyes—praying for the impossible—and waited for the inevitable.

A howl that started in the distance blew closer. Tires squealed on approach. Olivia popped up to survey the scene. “Shit.”

An engine roared, metal crunched like an empty can underfoot and glass exploded onto the ground. Olivia emptied the gun at the men, whose attention had been drawn away momentarily. A hit, albeit nonfatal, was her last act as savior. She flopped beside Alex again, staring at the barren gun in her grip.

Car doors clicked open and the shooting started anew. Lilly listened to each exchange, noting the pauses for reloading, the tactical method, and the groupings—the tell-tale signature of law enforcement.

“Officer down!” a voice shouted, presumably into his cell phone.

Another round, another body crumpled. Lungs filled with blood—rasping, choking, aspirating sounded like a chorus of mortality. And finally silence. Another set of footfalls crushed the earth, crunching closer still. The whoosh of traffic on the new turnpike washed over the gruesome scene. Alex pressed her back against the sedan—rigid as she awaited her one man firing squad. Wearied, Lilly sagged against the rear quarter-panel as Olivia, wide-eyed and frantic, searched the space between the cars for a solution. Her hands combed the dirt for a bullet, clumsy and fumbling were the fingers that seized the prize. Trembling, she loaded the lone dusty bullet into her gun.

The feet advanced methodically. Olivia crouched near the bumper and prayed the adrenaline would be enough to take him down. When his polished shoes came into view her arms shot out, snaking around his ankles, jerking backwards and lifting him off his feet. 

With a sickening crack, their assailer landed flat on his back. He was still shaking it off when Olivia scrambled on top of him, knee pressing into his chest, the lone bullet quivering in the chamber of her weapon as the muzzle dug into his forehead.

“Benson!” Agent Hammond’s voice boomed. “What the hell are you doing?”   
__


	10. Saints & Sinners

The inevitable clean-up was underway. She’d seen the vans with flashing lights and the Brass casing crime scenes plenty of times, she’d even had her gun taken into evidence before but this was the first time she’d fought for her life. A partner shot down in the melee, a lover depending on her—this wasn’t the Job, this was making a stand.

Blue and red rolled across Alex’s cheek. Blue, red. Blue, red. She hugged her sides and nodded as the men in suits questioned her. A pang wrenched Olivia’s stomach as body bags were zipped and hefted onto gurneys. Regret? Victory? She wasn’t sure she wanted the answer, but the suits surely would.

Sidestepping evidence markers and pools of blood, she advanced toward the only ambulance that medics circled with purpose. 

Olivia leaned into the bus. “Hey.” The oxygen mask fogged and groggily; Lilly smiled. “Gave you something for the pain, huh?”

Slivered blue eyes crinkled and drifted shut. 

“Detective Benson,” Hammond called. 

Olivia patted the back of the ambulance and pushed off. Reluctantly, she faced the man she’d flattened an hour before.

“I said I was sorry.” She wasn’t—and Hammond knew it.

“I told you to go back to New York.” He surveyed the chaos, shrewdly avoiding eye contact with the Detective. “But I knew you wouldn’t.”

Her lips curled, an impish expression creeping across her face. 

“What you did tonight…I’ve never seen such blatant disregard of safety, common sense… You all could have been killed.”

“It was under control.”

Hammond narrowed his eyes and when he spoke again it was through gnashed teeth. “You were outmanned and outgunned, Detective. Think long and hard about that before you tell IAB you had it under control.”  
__

She walked an invisible grid within the room. Back and forth, every turn predictable—Olivia never could sit still. The shock was setting in.

“What the hell happened out there, Alex?” her voice was sharp in the silence of the hospital waiting room.

Alex stilled her bouncing knee. “We got lucky.”

“Alex—“

She nodded. “I know.”

Cutting the declaration off before it was unfettered was an old habit that Olivia surely recognized. She flopped into the chair beside Alex. “What did I do?” Unsettling as it was, her question went unanswered. No amount of cooing would make it all right and they both knew it. “They’re gonna take my badge.”

“You don’t know that.”

“People died, Alex. I… killed them.”

“Hammond—“

“What? You think he’s gonna help me? After I knocked him on his ass and got one of his men killed?”

“He knows the situation. You were defending yourself, defending me.”

“I’m a cop.” There was more to the thought but Olivia didn’t articulate it. 

“It ended the only way it could end, Olivia. Unless…”

“I need some air.” Olivia stood abruptly. “I’ll be outside if the doctor comes back.”  
__

Alex had been driving for two days. She couldn’t stop. But when she was forced to—for gas or food—her heart bounced in her chest like a basketball in an empty gym, her face flushed, and she anticipated death. 

It was only a matter of time until they caught up with her. 

The gas station attendant eyed her suspiciously. She was, after all, jittery as a Wall Street trader looking to score an eight ball. Alex was sure the hand the clerk kept out of sight was white-knuckling a shotgun under the counter as she paid for her coffee with a handful of change. She looked like hell. She couldn’t remember the last time she slept. Sleeping meant stopping and stopping wasn’t an option.   
__

“Miss? Can I help you?”

Alex jittered in front of the nurses’ station. “Lilly Rush?”

The grey-haired woman flipped through her clipboard. “I’m sorry, she’s still in surgery.”

Alex nodded. “I’ll just be waiting…”

“I’ll send the doctor to talk to you when he’s through.”

“Thank you.”  
__

In the muffled silence of her car, she focused on the measured sounds of her own breathing. Her chest felt tight, her arms felt rubbery, and staring at the gun in her hand she questioned her resilience. Remembering the halfway houses, the dread that filled her every morning when she awoke, and the government thugs who got off on reminding her that her days were numbered, the clarity of her decision rippled through Alex. She refused to live in a bunker, to sit still and wait for death to come to her in a dungeon of her own doing. And no matter how many men were assigned to watch over Alex she never felt safe. 

There was only one way she’d ever be safe again.  
__

Olivia’s arrogance had worn off and the ghastly reality of the hours before rattled her nerves. Replaying it in her head she felt less and less like the hero. She was a bullet away from death and she had the audacity to act invincible. Had it been a drug czar with a semi-automatic instead of a cocky FBI desk jockey they’d all be dead.

All the ways she thought it would end were fairy tales in comparison.

Sitting on the planter beside the emergency room doors, she stared at the sky. Her breath dissolved in tendrils and wisps as she confessed her sins to the stars. 

Vera didn’t bother with words as he ambled past, simply grunting. Jeffries, the softer of the two, nodded affably as he passed, but it was Lieutenant Stillman bringing up the rear, that shamed her with a grim expression of fatherly disappointment.   
__

They’d never understand why she signed the release and walked away from protection. But the insignificance of her case and the knowledge that there was no justice for a woman who loved the law as much as Alex did left her embittered and made even the slightest chance of returning to her former pampered existence more unlikely. 

Filled with purpose she set out, knowing enough to get her close enough to kill or be killed. She’d even gone so far as to map a hit list—she traveled from city to city collecting information, getting just close enough to get what she needed before disappearing again. She was a lot better at it than she thought she would be in the beginning. The lying came so easily.

She bled her truth into the sidewalk that night. Smeared her lover’s hands with it, choked on it as they resuscitated her and now she slept with one eye open because of it. 

__

Alex inhaled sharply. Jerking awake, the coat Olivia had covered her with slipped to the floor as she sat up. 

Olivia stood stock still in front of the other woman, unnerved by her reaction. Three years ago Alex would have known it was her—her smell, her noises, the air of brooding confidence that hung heavily when she was near.

“Brought you coffee.” Olivia set the paper cup on the table beside Alex and kneeled to retrieve her jacket.

“Thanks.”

The wearied shadows cast across Alex’s face spoke volumes and compelled Olivia’s worry. “When’s the last time you slept, Alex?”

“Don’t ask.” She ran a hand through her hair. “How long was I out?”

“An hour or so.” Olivia grimaced as she stood—the ache in her bones incomparable to the war in her head.

“Any news?”

Olivia glanced at the nurses’ station. “Nothing yet. Philly’s finest are here, though.”

Alex took quick stock of her surroundings, eyes darting from doorways to exit signs and back again. The tension in her posture tainted the room’s air. 

“It’s nothing serious.” She settled next to Alex. “Well,” she corrected, “they’re not too happy with me.”  
__

Staring at the face that once belonged to Alex Cabot in the dingy truck-stop bathroom, she regrouped. She studied the lines on her face as the tap ran, its too-tepid water unsatisfying—she ached for the scalding satisfaction that a proper tap could bring. 

She looked at the blood and dirt beneath her nails, smeared across her cheek and tried not to hate herself.

A fist pounded against the rickety door.

“You okay?” A voice echoed. 

“Alex?” Olivia’s voice drew her back to the moment.

“Yeah.” She had to say it twice before the word was heard in the hallway. “I’ll be out in a minute.”  
__


	11. Picking Up The Pieces

“Haven’t you done enough?” a man barked. 

“This is a hospital, keep your voices down,” a nurse scolded them as she passed the pastel room. 

Alex advanced toward the waiting room with much trepidation. Empty moments before, the room was now filled with men of every shape and size—cops always came with entourages. Alex went unnoticed outside the room. She wanted to disappear, to melt away, to evaporate into ether. 

The chubby one was grumbling about something and Olivia did well not to smack the pointing finger away from her face.

A mustached man she assumed to be his partner clapped a hand on the fat one’s shoulder. “Calm down, Nick.”

“The doctor isn’t letting anyone in to see her tonight, so why don’t we call it a night.” She recognized the cadence and tone of his voice and the way he settled the detectives as one that Captain Cragen often employed—he was the man in charge.

“Boss—“ 

“Go home and get some rest.”

The men buzzed past, Vera still shaking his head; tearing at his words like a junkyard dog as he stomped down the hall. 

Olivia spotted her first, then the Lieutenant, his eyes following Olivia’s to her. There was no point pretending to be the proverbial fly on the wall any longer so she stepped into the putrid pink room and faced the man in charge. 

“Alex,” Olivia introduced, “this is Lieutenant Stillman.”

She squeezed the man’s warm hand. “Alex Cabot.”

“Well, Ms. Cabot, Detective Benson… Agent Hammond has asked that I bring you both back to the station.”  
__

There were no cuffs, no threats or manhandling, just a civil—albeit quiet—ride across town in an unmarked car. Olivia had noticed Alex’s indecisiveness when the back door was opened for her and crawled in first, sparing Alex the indignity of sitting in the cage by herself. As the sedan pulled away from the curb, Alex had brushed her thumb across the back of the hand that rest between them as Olivia nervously picked at the bench’s loose threads.  
__

“Philadelphia’s most wanted.” Stillman groaned as lowered himself to his chair. “I have to admit… you’re not what I was expecting.”

“No, I’m not.”

The Lieutenant puzzled over her statement for a long while before he spoke again. “So what happens now?”

The question, while an obvious one, troubled her. The gutting irony of it was: she hadn’t thought that far ahead.  
__

“You did it.” Hammond threw a stack of photos onto the table. “You got him.” His head bobbled like a doll as he spoke. “What are you going to do with yourself now, Detective?”

Olivia pushed the pile of pictures around, spreading the bloodied bodies of their would-be assassins across the table with curious wonder. She tapped her nail against a photo. “You’re sure it’s him?”

She didn’t wait for his nod; even awash with blood she recognized Velez. 

Hammond crossed his arms and sat on the edge of the interrogation room table. 

Lifting the badge that dangled from the chain around her neck she stared at the numbers that had defined her for so many years. She twisted the gold shield in the harsh lamp light, not shying away from its glare before lifting it over her head and setting it on the table.

“You didn’t do it, you know.” Hammond tapped a pen on the table and poked at Velez’s bloody body. “Not Velez.” Olivia cocked her head. “I did him,” he gnashed his teeth, “and it felt good.”

Overwhelmed, Olivia sunk into the cold, metal chair. Staring at her badge she tried to make sense of it all. 

“There’ll be an internal investigation, of course,” he brushed imaginary dust from his pant leg. 

The door creaked as Lieutenant Stillman stepped into the room. She never thought her day of reckoning would be so swift, so immediate.

“I will personally apprise IAB of your capacity on this case and within our jurisdiction. Your weapon will be returned to you accordingly. Thank you for your assistance in recovering our witness.”

Olivia scrunched her forehead at Agent Hammond’s off the wall apology. His allusion to clearing her name was possibly the most bizarre thing she had ever heard given the circumstances. She looked to Stillman who didn’t seem share her disturbance over Hammond’s uncharacteristic display of generosity. 

“Yessir,” she stood awkwardly and turned to leave.

“Benson,” he barked. When Olivia turned, he was pitching her badge to her. “Stay out of trouble.”  
__

“This is it. It’s not the Ritz but I wasn’t expecting...” Olivia looked over her shoulder as she fumbled with the plastic keychain.

“No, it’s good.” Alex didn’t tell her she had seen her fair share of roach motels during her exile, nor did she remind Olivia that she’d visited her motel once before.

“Here,” Olivia eagerly cleared away the suitcase she’d left behind all those hours ago. “Take this one.” Her wild gesticulation between the two beds was almost comical. “That one has this spring and it’s just… this one is good.” Olivia took a deep breath.

She nodded and tried not to smile at Olivia’s nervousness. It was senior prom all over again—the ‘are we, aren’t we’ tension—but this was worse. There was an aching finality to their awkwardness. The way they avoided the subject, shied away from touching, keeping a respectable distance when there was such a palpable need to reconnect. But things were more complicated than that. Things had changed; there were things Olivia needed to know before they went down that road again, and she might not want to even try once she heard what Alex had to say.

Olivia hovered by the door until Alex settled onto the edge of the bed.

“You can stop running now.”  
____


	12. Temple Rubato

She saw the flash before she heard the pop. A man glided out of the alley with purpose, adjusting his pants as he tucked a gun into the waistband. Head swimming, nausea threatening, she sunk into the bucket seat and waited for it to pass, for him to pass. 

Methodical footsteps scratched closer. This was it, she thought. This was how she was going to die: in plain sight, having played cloak and dagger with the wrong people. He whistled, shoes clacking in time to the callously up-tempo tune as he passed. The car eased away from the curb without haste, its casual pace matching the gunman’s gate moments before. 

She panted, her hands trembled and her eyes tried to maintain contact with the Mercedes creeping down the street. But she didn’t move. Movement would attract attention—they were easing away from the crime scene not to avoid suspicion, rather to look for witnesses. 

She pawed at the glove compartment, eyes still locked on the receding glow of the getaway car. When it slammed open she scrounged for a pen, scribbled the plate number onto a napkin and tucked it into her pocket.

Hand on the door handle, she filled her lungs again—the toxicity of freedom. The gun was heavy. No matter how many times she’d carried it, it weighed her down. The burden of what she had become. She crossed the street quickly.

“Miranda?” she whispered into the dim alley. 

Plastic crinkled and she crept closer, squeezing the waffle-grip tighter. A stray cat protecting its meal growled as she passed the dumpster. Attention drawn away briefly, she stumbled over a garbage bag. A can skittered down the alley, spinning like a top in an inky puddle.

“Mir?”  
__

The stain on the ceiling gave her pause. She’d spent entirely too much time contemplating its origins, each theory more repellant than the last. 

Olivia sighed. An expulsion of air, an abbreviated hum, a sound of complete contentment—God, she sounded good.

Sleep eluded her. The bed was too soft, Olivia’s breathing too loud. Years ago it was the measure of a lover’s breathing that was the harbinger of blissful repose. Ironic, considering she’d spent the better part of two years sleeping in her car.  
__

A hand, its fingers curling, reaching out, lie palm up beckoning her closer. Lifeless and stiff, the gesture was hopeful and by that made more tragic. 

Alex employed far less caution approaching the body of Miranda Inez than she had entering the dark alley. Tears fell uncontested as Alex crumpled amongst the smelly debris and wept openly.

Blood everywhere, Miranda Inez’s lifeless gaze a silent indictment of what Alex had become. There wasn’t much left, she feared, that separated her from the villains. 

Sirens sounded in the distance. 

Heart racing, Alex turned off her emotions. She detached from angry copper stench suffusing the air, the hot blood cooling on her knees, the dark eyes' blank stare growing paler as each minute passed. 

Survival was paramount. 

“Where is it?” she asked, frantic.

The body jerked as Alex searched its pockets, rolling it from side to side, finding nothing in its jacket or jeans. But she didn’t stop there, reaching into the low-cut top Alex searched Miranda’s bra. Gentler was her exploration, still the invasion cost not only a dead woman her dignity but Alex hers as well. 

Slipping beneath Miranda’s left breast something cleaved her finger. Pinching the card stock between her fingers, Alex withdrew.

“I’m sorry.” She cupped the Miranda’s cheek and drifted away into the night.  
__

Olivia lay as she always had: on her back in the middle of the bed, both arms tucked behind her head; confident even in slumber. 

Foreign to her now, Olivia’s breathing was a painful reminder of all that which was lost. The longing, the unspoken, their fragile union mystified her still. Even if they could get back what they had, where did that leave them? 

Alex turned on her side and watched Olivia bathed in tempered neon. She focused on the shoulder she’d laid her head on and the hip she’d draped her arm across so many times before and the distance disappeared. 

She fit neatly in Olivia’s curves. A paradisiacal mix of soft and hard, her body gave way to Alex’s in all the right places. Olivia’s heart pumped against her ear and it was then that Alex finally found the metronome by which her sleep was driven.  
__


	13. Confliction

Regret. Do the Job long enough and it‘s inevitable. But this wasn’t some unsolvable John Doe homicide or sex crime. A happy ending was looming, it just didn’t include her. 

Hazed by the anesthesia and cast in unnatural hues, Lilly squinted into the florescent glare and recognized her so-called regret for what it was: Envy. 

Awash in self-pity, she paled. Her stomach churned, waves of post-op nausea gripping her gut and tightening her throat. There was little consolation to be found in the room’s noxious pink walls. Perhaps meant to soothe patients and visitors alike, the paint aggravated the ill-will brewing within. 

The painkillers were wearing off and she was alone. A far cry from the hero the morning news proclaimed her to be. Her head rolled to the side, the stiff, sterile pillow crinkling against her hair. Throwing back the gloomy grey blanket, Lilly paused at the sight of her swaddled thigh. Mortality seeped through the bandage—defiant against its sterile confines. The illusion of immortality, the façade of invincibility fled as she prodded the wound. Synapses fired, neurons flared and Lilly Rush gasped, trembling as the white hot agony crippled her once more. Of the hundreds, maybe even thousand fired, one bullet had felled her. Sobering as the notion was, pride bubbled still. She did it. They did it. We won.

Lilly held her breath. Now what? She gathered the blanket to her shoulders, hiding her wound—the fallacy of the Job written in crimson shades of her—their victory, her failure, the underwritten betrayal and her thoughts drifted once again to Olivia. 

Why’d she do it? It was just a case, nothing special. And each time she bought into the lie, she tripped on the consequences. If Olivia hadn’t accompanied the file, pressing hard for a resolution, would she have pursued it even after everyone told her to stop? She would have gone the distance for any case, but putting her badge on the line for one was a stretch, even for Lilly. No, it was time to admit the real reason she chased this case to the brink.   
__

Olivia had been reluctant to leave the tangle of limbs despite the confusion she felt when she woke. Alex had threaded herself around Olivia, an impossible coil of arms and legs heavy with sleep. It would have been suffocating were it not for the anxiety that was squashed between their bodies when Alex had invaded her bed. And wanting to avoid waking her at all costs, Olivia suffered through the rogue spring that jutted into her back, the shoulder to fingertip numbness, even a three-coffee-capacity bladder. Through it all, she waited. Patient from the pinks of pre-dawn to the yellow blare of mid-morning and only then did Olivia slip away.

She drifted quietly through her morning routine, drawing it out, stalling in the shower still, Alex didn’t stir. Sitting in front of the smudged mirror Olivia watched her. Her features were not so changed by time that she was unrecognizable, but the worry of her exile had left her marked just the same. Her once-full cheeks were gaunt, her body frail with fatigue. This Alex was a literal shadow of her former self and, Olivia supposed, so was their relationship. 

She’d done the impossible. When everyone had given themselves over to complacency—to ‘wait and see’—Olivia pressed harder. Now, with her eye on the prize she felt more conflicted than ever. Doubt not once crossing her mind during her great quest had unexpectedly reared up and knocked the wind out of her. She couldn’t stop being a cop and though it was her job, she couldn’t bear to treat Alex as a victim. She was supposed to be beating on Olivia’s chest: Say something! I can’t stand it when you look at me like that. Walking away when things got too real, sending her away when they didn’t. It was supposed to be messy… but not like this. 

Her stomach rumbled. She not only felt the pull of hunger twist inside, but that of guilt. She had to see Lilly, after everything that happened, a hospital visit was the least she could do. Olivia picked at the what ifs like stray threads on her quilt of confusion. If she had crossed paths with Lilly earlier, if they hadn’t found Alex, if she’d spent that drunken night in Lilly’s bed instead of on her couch where would she be? Where would they be? 

Alex shifted, the first time in hours and sighed. The delicate hum bound by a whoosh of air—a sound so familiar yet foreign for so long—tempered Olivia’s emotional upheaval. So, it’s come to this. 

Twenty four hours ago she chased the ghost of a chance and now her phantom was sleeping it off. Soon, she’d tell her story, things would be clearer, and Olivia’s patience would be rewarded. In that moment, Olivia gave herself over to the notion that this wasn’t her decision to make. It was as it always had been: Alex’s. And that, as it always had, made her antsy.

Olivia scratched a message onto motel stationary, placed a chaste kiss on Alex’s forehead, the note on her pillow and slinked into the light of day.   
__


	14. Stockholm Syndrome

A squeaky meal cart stalled outside her room. Lilly watched the sliver of light grow obtuse as the orderly crept in. “Morning,” he mumbled. Sliding the plate onto her table, he removed its dome cover unceremoniously.

Lilly gagged as the malodor of eggs and butter wafted towards her. She squeezed her eyes shut. 

“They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

When Lilly opened her eyes the orderly was gone and in his place an equally unwelcome substitute stood. “Hi Kite.”

“I saw the news. Everyone’s talking.”

“Been awhile since I was gossip-worthy.” His grimace was proof-positive their dirty laundry was still hanging in his closet, too. “Why are you here, Kite?”

“I wanted to see how you were.”

She couldn’t say for certain if it was the stench of eggs or the past that was making her nauseous now. “I’m still workin’ the Job.”

Three quick, crisp taps upon her open door and Olivia was poking her head into the fray. “Oh—I didn’t mean to disturb anything…” she jerked a thumb at the hallway. “I can come back.”

“No—” Lilly said too quickly. “Stay. Please.”

“Detective Benson, come to survey the damage?” Kite added coolly, his only contribution to their ‘should I stay or should I go?’ tug o’ war. 

Olivia’s body stiffened. Her casual lean transmuted into textbook perfect posture. Chin up, chest out, hips and shoulders square—the Academy would be proud. She eyed him then, intentional stillness more fearsome and unnerving than an all-out assault. Two confident strides and a long moment later she was encroaching on the attorney’s personal space. “I’m sorry have we met?” Her words were polite enough; the delivery however, was imbued with careful hostility. 

“Your picture’s in the papers.” Smirking, he emphasized the plurality for effect.

When Kite was neglected to introduce himself, Lilly did him one better. “Don’t be an ass, Kite.”

“I guess that’s my cue.” Cellophane crackled as he set a bouquet of flowers onto the visitor table. “Thought they might cheer you up,” he lifted his hands in surrender, “if you needed cheering up.” Failing to illicit pity, he let his arms clap to his sides and backed out of the room. “Take care of yourself, Lilly.”

“Well that was awkward.” Rocking back on her heels, Olivia jammed her hands into her pockets. “A lawyer, huh? I know how that goes.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, but her eyes broadcast her amusement just the same. “It’s ancient history.”

“I know all about that, too.” Suddenly self-conscious, she added: “You look a little green. Feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah. Kite has that effect on people.” Lilly’s eyes traversed the room, drifting from the cheap bouquet teetering at the table’s edge, across the pastel wall to the room’s extra-wide threshold before returning to Olivia. 

“I noticed. “ Olivia’s lopsided smile faded.

“Could you—” Lilly motioned at the plate which she’d pushed as far away from her face as she could manage. Despite the distance, her stomach made ominous overtures still.

“Oh—yeah.” She lurched forward and scooped up the reprobated breakfast. 

“Thanks.” Exterminating that smell was tantamount to slaying a dragon before it wiped out the village. Her gag reflex swooned: My hero!

Olivia’s stomach gurgled. “Do you mind…?” she pointed at the meal.

“Go ‘head.” Lilly couldn’t bite back the smile this time as Olivia assaulted her breakfast. “Just keep it away from me.”

“So how are they treating you?” She stood restlessly beside the table, shifting her weight from left foot to right foot and back again. The anxiety so palpable in the awkward ballet spiked Lilly’s blood pressure as she watched.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this the penthouse, but it’s a private room. That’s something, right?”

Olivia popped greenish-yellow lumps of scrambled eggs into her mouth like popcorn. “You gotta get a chest wound to get your own room in Manhattan.” 

At that, Lilly laughed. “Good to know.”

Olivia’s face rippled with emotion, like a freight train flitting past—pain, joy, regret, sadness, embarrassment, sorrow, compassion. Exhaling, Olivia cleansed her emotional palate.

Here it comes.

Settling into the guest chair, Olivia slathered the toast with jam. “I just wanted to apologize if I gave you the wrong impression.” The words fell so nonchalantly between strawberry jam and whole wheat toast that Lilly struggled to make sense of them. “I owe you so much. I never meant for this—for you to get hurt.” Olivia let her words stew in the silence before continuing. “If things were different… a different time, a different place, I dunno…”

“It’s okay. Really.” No more, please. “This,” she pointed at her leg, “is part of the job. The rest of that…” Lilly trailed off wrestling with what needed to be said, what Olivia needed to hear. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be. “She must be something else.”

Olivia pushed away from the remnants of Lilly’s breakfast. “She is.” It wasn’t so much a smile as it was a glow that touched every feature from the tips of her ears, to the corners of her mouth, to the light in her dark eyes.

Uncle.  
__ 

“Stabler,” her partner gruffed.

“Elliot—It’s me.” She squeezed the phone between her shoulder and ear as she juggled her car keys.

“Holy shit, Liv. What happened?”

“Long story—“ She wrenched open the car door and set the take out boxes on the passenger seat.

“I’ve heard the stories; now tell me you’re okay.”

Olivia settled into the driver’s seat. “I’m good, I think.”

“You think? You’re in a whole lotta trouble not to know for sure, partner.”

“It’s complicated.” She drummed her fingers on the gearshift. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“She doesn’t want to come back, does she?”

Her forehead rolled against the steering wheel. “I dunno. I haven’t asked.”

“That might be a good place to start.”

“It’s on my to-do list, right after appealing my suspension.”

“They suspended you already?”

“Not yet, but it’s coming.”

“But you got her back.”

“I think so.”

“Don’t make it all for nothing, Liv.”

“I gotta go. I just… I thought I should call.”

“Liv?” he said quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Good luck.”

She closed her eyes pausing to listen to his stillness amid the squad room’s bustle before flipping her phone shut.  
__

She’d been a cop for too long. Reading people was second nature. In the interrogation room tactics only went so far; if she couldn’t predict what they wanted to tell her than she couldn’t work the angle to get it out. In door-to-door canvassing spotting shifty eyes and agitated ticks was the best defense. And in follow-up interviews with victims and their families a sympathetic nod and a retreating gaze for some, tears that never fall for others—selfless tenderness—is the only offense. 

So when Olivia pressed her lips against Lilly’s cheek (still smelling of the strawberries and eggs from breakfast,) and squeezed her hand, Lilly smiled because it was the only acceptable response. “Pick me”, “Stay”, and “Don’t go” were all a chin-quiver away, still she smiled as the hand slipped away. And with one last toss of her head and flash of teeth, Olivia was gliding out of her room. 

She didn’t cry or mourn the aleatory promise of what might have been. Long ago Lilly had accepted her lot in life. Even when she’d tried relationships they were always with co-workers. And as such they were characterized by ineffable exchanges of free time and space; not really fulfilling or adequately diminishing the loneliness. 

And as much as she wanted to fault Olivia for her choices, she couldn’t. There was a marked familiarity in the woman that had ransacked her life in the hunt for yet another woman. A dog-eared page in her diary, mirroring both bad and good—her independence, fear of intimacy, overwhelming compassion, that distant, sad and lonely look in her eyes because, even knowing all she did, she was still too emotionally crippled to do anything about it.

When the orderly cleared her half-eaten breakfast, she missed it.

Even as Olivia’s ancillary partner she couldn’t be pissed about getting shot. There was numb joy in being alone, coming to terms with rejection and maintaining the status quo. 

“Rest easy, your cats have been fed,” the voice boomed. Nick Vera waddled into the room. “And that three-legged bastard bit me.”

“How’s our girl?” Will Jeffries’ smile brightened the room and lifted her mood instantaneously. 

She couldn’t contain the ear-to-ear grin that stretched the corners of her mouth and slivered her eyes in response. “I’m good.”

“Brought ‘cha lunch,” Vera plopped down next to her bed and set a greasy cardboard box of fries in her hand before she could protest. He rooted through the paper bag noisily as his partner took charge of the pleasantries. 

Jeffries patted her hand. “How’re you holding up?” 

“Wishing my cold case stayed off the heat.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t call us.” Vera stabbed a straw into the soft drink lid and set it in front of Lilly. “Didja get to keep the bullet at least?”

“Nick—”

He slapped a massive foil-wrapped hoagie onto the table. “What?”

She laughed. “I didn’t ask.”

“Boss finally got a hold of Christina, should be here by nightfall.” 

Lilly nodded somberly wishing she’d chosen her partner as her emergency contact. It was one thing for a cop to concede to the fatal flaw of the Job—the illusion of indomitability—but it was an entirely different thing for a relation to recognize it. The superhero façade was a delicate beast and as macho as she played at there was a certain shame in being injured. Moreover, she had little faith in her ability to say “This? It’s nothing—just a flesh wound” convincingly when Christina fawned over her wounded sister. The stone that felled Goliath. The bullet that stopped Lilly Rush when nothing else could. 

“You should eat, Rush. You look like hell,” Vera muttered between mouthfuls. Jeffries just shook his head. “What now?”

“I missed you guys.”  
__

She exhaled. Staring at the chipped room numbers—the way the three hung a little low, crooked beside perpendicular ones—she readied herself.

She waited ten seconds between the click of the deadbolt and turning the knob. Whether it was to let Alex adjust to her impending presence or her to Alex’s she couldn’t say, but when the door finally creaked open she was holding her breath again.

The room was still dark and Alex hadn’t moved. She may not have been able to pinpoint the emotion she felt when she opened the door but she knew the surge of adrenaline she felt now was relief. 

Standing in the doorway she stared at her imposing shadow cast across the dingy carpet. She was surprised when it moved finally as she crossed to the vanity and released the paper bag she carried. 

Waffling, wobbling in the moment, Olivia wavered before the decision was made. She leaned against the door, putting all of her weight into shutting out the light once again.   
__


	15. Do You Trust Your Friends?

“Sit with me,” Alex said.

Hours had passed since Olivia returned from the hospital. Though an excruciating stakeout, she had the gift of indoor plumbing and the good fortune to go without the idle chatter of a sleep-deprived partner. The downside was, of course, that there were no useless trivia interludes via two-way radio or off-color humor in coffee-infused squad cars to keep her mind from wandering. The past and the ever-growing confusion of the present overlapped, tangled and knotted when she tried to envision their relationship without further complications. And so Olivia had given in—given herself over to the unknown—and fidgeted through one crossword after the next until daylight fading, Alex finally awoke.

Now Olivia kept an uneasy distance from her as Alex sawed through reheated cheese blintzes, as she, still cocooned in unappetizing chintz, watched the evening news.

“You’re not eating?”

“I ate earlier.” She twisted the cap off a bottle of water and set it beside Alex.

When Olivia turned to walk away again Alex grasped her hand. “Liv,” she squeezed Olivia’s fingers. “Sit with me. Please.”

After a long moment Olivia acquiesced, settling on the edge of the bed, two feet still firmly planted on the musty carpet. She was tensed, uneasy, and reticent to get any closer to the woman with whom she was once was closest.

“Relax, you don’t have to stand guard anymore. I’m not going anywhere,” Alex reassured.

“I wish I could believe that. This is so far beyond being over that I couldn’t let myself believe it if I tried.”

“When did you become so literal?”

When you left me.

A heaviness settled onto the bed, the specter of love and loss. The lost and found was closed and Olivia’s heart was breaking all over again. It was too much for her to be so close and the gap between them to feel so cavernous. 

“I can’t do this with you.” Olivia stood and scoured her hands upon her jeans.

It was Alex’s turn to look confused. “Do what? Talk to me? Has it been that long?

“Now that you mention it, Yes, Alex, it has.” The fire was back in Benson’s eyes. Her voice was sharp.

“Why go through all of this, then?” Alex’s hands swept through the air between them. “Why play the rescuer if you didn’t want me back in your life?”

“I did. I do. I just didn’t think that when I found you you’d be sporting a semi-automatic and a BMW with nitro. What happened to you, Alex?”

“I did what I had to do to survive.”

“Why won’t you trust me?”

“Olivia, why can’t you just let this be? Just once, please,” she implored. “The truth will come in time.”

Olivia’s heart sank. The love that she thought would never fade had apparently done just that. She let silence envelop them like a thick fog. She could not see beyond the moment. She was surrounded and covered, lost and suddenly hopeless. Her search was over and victory’s spoils eluded her still.

“Olivia,” Alex’s voice sliced into the meat of the moment, cutting away Olivia’s brooding air.

Olivia exhaled. A long whoosh of worry expelled into the dingy motel room. 

“It’s not your case.” Alex whispered.

“I’ve spent the last four years searching for you, if this isn’t my case, I don’t know what is.”

The TV news that blared in the background throughout their exchange was less easily ignored when the news anchor proclaimed “This just in” in a serious tone. The generic commanding voice continued, “Former New York Assistant District Attorney is being sought for questioning by the DEA in a string of unsolved homicides in Philadelphia. Sources say Columbian drug cartel connections are suspected.”

Benson’s attention whipped toward Alex, still tangled up in polyester blankets.

“I didn’t do it,” Alex defended.

A parade of emotions played upon Olivia’s features: denial, mistrust, betrayal, love, confusion. 

“We’re running out of time,” Alex kicked free from the blankets and stood in front of Olivia.

Olivia’s detective mind was racing through all the possibilities. Was Lilly right? Had Alex preyed on her emotions to get her to go along with the apparent scheme? “Not to sound like a broken record but you had an assault rifle in your trunk,” Olivia accused “How did you see that going over with PD?”

“We are in one hell of a mess and I know I am to blame for it, for that I am truly sorry. But I just want to go home.”

Olivia didn’t budge, blocking the narrow passage between the beds to the door. “And where’s that?”

“Don’t do this,” Alex begged, growing more desperate with each passing moment.

“You have to be straight with me or I can’t help you.”

“This isn’t exactly how I saw our first conversation going.”

“And did you see our first meeting in four years involving semi-automatic weapons?” Olivia pushed.

“I know it looks bad.”

“Looks bad? Alex you’re the only person left alive that can be tied to all the vics.”

“And I didn’t do it.”

And then all the stalling came to a crashing halt. An authoritative knock at the door and a booming voice identifying the visitor as Philadelphia’s finest. Panic shot through Alex. It was over. The running was done and the firefight was upon them again. Except instead of gathering the arsenal, Olivia wisely opened the door and surrendered. Time was up.  
__


	16. The Inquisition

Alex’s savior had a sick sense of humor. Surrendered and lost in the police shuffle, she was split up from Olivia and taken away in a separate car. And Alex was, for the first time in her life, subjected to The Walk. The Walk was of the most humiliating moments in law enforcement. Detectives proudly show off their collars to the media in a frenzy of flashes and shouting. Rare and exotic animals at the zoo must know this humiliation. Leashed and muzzled, led before print and live news reporters—the public’s own watchdogs—they were photographed hiding their faces in a veil of hair or the open collar of their jackets. Through it all, Alex never thought it would come to this. Death, yes. The Walk? No.  
__

Olivia was seated in a darkened interrogation room and shut away from the world for hours. She was left to ponder the blatant differences of New York’s interrogation rooms and Philadelphia’s. Philadelphia, she decided, was the clear winner. Cleaner, fresher paint, two-way mirror freshly spritzed with Windex—the brand name stuff, even. Everything about it left her envious. She imagined Lilly staring down a perp across the table from her. The slow cadence of her boots on the shiny tile floor, the hushed tones of her voice in the dimly lit room. Such ambience for a show, Olivia thought.   
__

Agent Hammond slapped a file folder down on the table. He paced.

“Ms. Cabot, it’s been awhile since we’ve spoken. What have you been doing with yourself all this time?”

“Why, Agent Hammond, did you miss me?” Alex let the mirth creep into her voice.

Agent Hammond smiled through clenched teeth—a wolf’s predatory stare—and eased onto the corner of the interrogation room’s table.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Cabot. Tell me what you know. Why did you have a trunk full of unregistered weapons and a blood soaked business card belonging to Miranda Inez in your glove compartment?”

Alex had seen this show from the other side of the table and it didn’t scare her much. However, she was quickly becoming acquainted with this new side, and it was hard to shake that she was now one of the accused.

“She gave it to me.”

“Before or after you killed her?”

Alex shook her head. “Neither. I took it from her after someone else killed her.”

“Of course.” His hands clapped together into his lap, dropping there in apparent irritation.

“And the guns? Did she give you those, too?”

“In a manner of speaking—if you inspect the business card further you’ll see a combination to a bus locker that contained a duffle bag of unregistered firearms.”

“And just how was it that you were able to get Miranda Inez to help you?”

“Desperate women that want to change their situations find ways to help one another.”

“Is that some lezzie thing, Cabot?”

Again she shook her head. “Not at all. I wanted out of my hell and she wanted out of her hell. She couldn’t walk away from Velez and live, I couldn’t rejoin my life and live. In helping me bring Velez down, she was helping herself.”

“Why, then, did she end up dead?”

“I guess he caught on to our game.”

“Kind of a high price to pay for a game, wouldn’t you say?”

“Listen,” her voice rose strong in defiance, “nobody feels worse about what happened to Miranda than I do.”

“What about the dozen other men in the morgue, feel bad about them?”

“No.”   
__

Olivia was being sweated. She knew periodically someone would enter the observation room and stare at her, carefully watching her behavior. She could hear the door in the hall open and close with an imperceptible click. She made a point to stare into the mirror when this happened but otherwise she kept herself busy with more mundane tasks. She had counted the ceiling tiles, she had counted the floor tiles, and she had memorized the fire extinguisher’s certificate number and its last inspection date and then back to staring into the empty observation room and imagining who might be staring back. Was it the fat one, Vera? Or maybe some DEA lackey? The least they could do was bring her a magazine. Or Coffee. Coffee would be good.  
__

“Let’s talk about the files you sent to Philadelphia PD.”

“What files?”

“Don’t push me, Alex. Why did you send hit lists to Detective Rush?”

“Oh, those files—I was confused. Were they hit lists? I didn’t know.” Alex smiled cordially again, toying with him.

“Then why send them to Detective Rush?”

“I thought, perhaps, Philadelphia’s finest might want to know about a drug cartel coming to town.”

“And you didn’t know they were hit lists?”

“Not explicitly. I knew the names were important and I thought the Detective might out-maneuver the agents of Velez.”

“You mean hit men.”

“What if I do? Does that mean I had anything to do with creating the hit lists? All I knew was that these men needed to be stopped and this was another avenue worth trying.”

“And Detective Benson?”

Alex grew serious. “I don’t know how she found out. I didn’t contact her.”  
__

Olivia spun her badge on the table like a top. Round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows. Her shield is what she would miss the most, well, second to her piece. But her shield was her identity—and it didn’t scare people as much as her gun.

She wondered how Alex was faring. She wondered how she, herself, was faring. Were they watching her calm demeanor, waiting for it to crack, waiting for her to crack and turn frantic? Oldest trick in the book and it wasn’t going to get Olivia Benson, no sir. 

But damn it, what about Alex? Olivia worried.  
__

“So let’s talk about the lists. Where did you get them?”

“Miranda and I had a system. She would check a library book out, hide the lists in its pages and then call me to tell me the title before returning the book. I would be waiting when it hit the shelves again and pocket the paper before anybody noticed.”

“And what happened if someone beat you to the book?”

“Never happened.”

“It could have happened, though, am I right?”

“Yes, I suppose you are.”

“What then?”

Alex shrugged. “Plan B.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“We would meet.”

“Is that what you were doing the night you killed her?”

“I didn’t kill her!” Alex slapped her hand on the table.

“Easy, Ms. Cabot. If you didn’t kill her, then maybe you could tell me who did?”

“Sure. Let’s visit the morgue and I’ll point him out.”

Hammond chuckled. “Tsk, tsk, blaming a dead man, Ms. Cabot. As an attorney you should know that’s the weakest alibi out there.”

“In this case, it’s true.”  
__

Olivia was reflecting now. Pouring over the last four years, the lengths she had gone to bring Alex back from the dead. However, being reunited with a vigilante was not what she was expecting. No, she was expecting Alex to have taken claim to a quiet existence in Tempe, Arizona, with a rock garden and a white-pawed cat named Mulligan, not this. Her worst nightmare up to this point had been if Alex would even want to return to New York with her, that she was happy in her new life. At least that wasn’t the case. Somehow, she didn’t feel much better about it.  
__

“So you didn’t kill any of those men with your wealth of firearms, Ms. Cabot?”

“No.”

“And you don’t have any idea who might have done so?”

“Velez, I assume.”

“What about on the ol’ dusty road? Not even there?”

“I fired a few weapons, but I was just wasting bullets. I let the detectives do the rest of the shooting.”

“While you bandaged Detective Rush.”

“Yes.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“Jesus, is this a therapy session; should I be paying you? I’m sorry Detective Rush got shot. If I didn’t call them I would be dead, of that I am sure.”

“Ah, a little more of that self-preservation. I’m all aglow by your desperation, Ms. Cabot.”

“Are we done?”

“Just one more thing; Is this what you had in mind when you left witness protection? A dozen men dead, a Detective wounded, and your ass still saved by DEA? Very poetic, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Just remember who pulled all the strings on this one, Hammond. Who they were chasing, who survived wave after wave of thugs before you, taking your sweet-ass time, decided to show up?” Alex stood. “Are we done? I’m through.”  
__


	17. The Strong Arm Of The Law

The door to the interrogation room finally opened and as much as Olivia had hoped it would be Lilly, it was not. However, it was Agent Hammond who, earlier, had sworn she’d be let go with a slap on the wrists. 

“Detective Benson.”

“Agent Hammond. I’m a little confused. I thought we already had our talk?”

“Preliminary talk, Detective Benson. There are still a few things that need clarifying.”

“Like what?”

“Why don’t you let me ask the questions, Detective.”

“Of course.” Olivia smirked.

“Ms. Cabot was full of stories. Has she shared any of those stories with you? I bet not. She’s a cagey one, isn’t she?”

“You have a funny way of asking questions. Let you go long enough and you’ll answer them yourself.”

“All right, try this one: Why are you in Philadelphia?”

“Got a tip that someone might be looking into Alex’s case, and since I was on vacation, I thought why not go on a fact-finding mission.”

“And where did this tip come from?”

“Can’t tell you that.” 

“That’s a new one. At least Cabot was straight with me. Maybe you’re the cagey one?”

“Maybe.” Olivia shrugged and wrung her hands.

“So when did Alex first contact you, personally?”

“She left a note on my motel room door telling me to go back to New York.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I was helping Detective Rush work the case.”

“Without permission from your Captain or Philadelphia PD.”

“I suppose so, yes. As far as Detective Rush was concerned, I was a witness.”

“To what? Alex’s shooting?”

“Alex. I know her better than anyone. Detective Rush must have thought that would be helpful.”

“From the way I understand it, I don’t think you gave Detective Rush much of a choice.”

“All due respect sir, but she didn’t get where she is without learning to say no.”

“Ah, so we’re throwing Detective Rush under the bus now. Is that your style?”

“No. In fact, Detective Rush did not condone me driving to meet Alex that night, but she came along for back up.”

“Lucky her. Tell me more about that night.”

“I was packing up to go back to New York and Alex called. She asked for my help and gave me instructions on where to meet her. I was about to leave without her, but Detective Rush insisted she come and all the way to the rendezvous point she tried to talk me out of it. But Alex needed me and I was blinded by that.”

“So you regret your choice? Is that it?”

“Yes and no. I take all the blame for Lilly—Detective Rush—getting shot, but Alex surely would not have survived that kind of assault. She was firing blindly from the tunnel. All they would have had to do is unload on that tunnel and she would have been as good as dead.”

“Why didn’t Detective Rush call for back up?”

“You’d have to ask her.”

“How many rounds did you fire?”

“I used two clips from both my glock and Detective Rush’s and a box of bullets give or take ten because they spilled on the ground. Alex had a 12 gauge—used probably 20 shells there, and the M16, I lost track by that point. Ammo was low, Detective Rush was fading out and Alex was scared shitless.”

“Quite the artillery spread.”

“Yes sir.”

“And then you tackled me.”

“Well, I had one bullet left, I heard the firefight but there was no clear identification of who had won, so when I saw your feet I went for it. I was protecting myself, Detective Rush, and Ms. Cabot.”

“No hard feelings, Benson.” Agent Hammond squeezed her shoulders in a fatherly show of affection. 

Olivia tensed. “So what happens now?”

“There you go asking questions again. Patience, Detective Benson. Don’t you want to know what this is all about?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well then listen up. I’m about to tell you what we know.”

“Why are you doing this?” Olivia let the confusion creep into her voice.

“Velez was a bad man.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“He’s been systematically removing the weak links in his organization. It started in New York and then something caught his attention here—“ 

“Alex,” she interrupted.

“Most likely.”

“What made him kill is own men?”

“Rumor has it there was a mutiny in the works and from what I’ve learned from Alex’s communiqué with Detective Rush, there were a lot of people involved. His empire was a sinking ship.”

“Why do Inez? We couldn’t crack her. Wasn’t she loyal?”

“She wanted out but the only way she could leave Velez was to help Alex bring him down. Unfortunately, he discovered their cloak and dagger and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Agent Hammond stood again and gathered papers left on the table, signaling the end of his question-and-answer period. He straightened, file shoved neatly beneath his arm and reached preemptively for the doorknob. He turned on his heel and spoke to Olivia once more.

“I share this with you, Detective, because you have helped us finally put this case to rest. Doing so has meant many sacrifices for us all and I am relieved to see our side fared better than theirs in the outcome. However, your dogged determination caused you to break a number of rules which I have no jurisdiction over. I am a man of my word and I will use my position to influence your Captain, but IAB is a beast in and of itself. That’s a fight you’re facing on your own.”

“Thank you,” Olivia said solemnly.  
__


	18. The Origin Of Symmetry

They rode home in the cage again, this time together. Was this how all their dates would begin post-Velez? Olivia, more at ease since Hammond had debriefed her, let herself sit closer to Alex, even allowing herself to enjoy that closeness. Calmer now, she revisited the question that had been haunting her since she was reunited with Alex: was she more in love with the chase or the woman she chased? She had wrestled with the question for hours in the darkened motel room as Alex slept and again in the empty interrogation room as she waited. Now, with most of the information, she felt surer that it was Alex she loved; the chase had just been passing the time until she found her. Still they were at an awkward impasse. Alex was not who she was before her figurative death and Olivia was still stuck in the time warp of their relationship as it had been, having to wait for the missing piece to return to the puzzle of her life. 

The baby faced duty cop opened the rear door. “Miss,” he said awkwardly.

Alex slid out, head held high like she was emerging from a limo and Olivia followed, more casually, behind. 

“Agent Hammond asked that I suggest you both keep out of trouble.”

The blonde snorted. “Okay, we will.” 

Olivia jostled the room key and shouldered the door and together they were coasting into the stale, dusty room.

Alex flopped onto the bed, still unmade from their impromptu exit earlier. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see this fleabag motel room again.”

“Narrowly escaping another bout, hey Champ?”

Alex put a hand on her face and grunted. “You’re not going to start with me again, are you?”

“No,” she spoke softer now. Sorry for prodding Alex so soon after their return.

“Good, because I thought maybe we could spend some time together; relaxing.”

“In this shithole? Wouldn’t you rather check into the Four Seasons and eat at a 4-star restaurant?”

“Would you believe ordering a pizza and watching the late, late movie here sounds just as good?”

Olivia sunk onto the other bed, playing with the spring that jutted through the mattress and tented the sheet. Her Alex had gone. The new lower maintenance Alex would have been a thing of wonder four years ago, but now Olivia felt saddened and cheated by the absence of the woman who righted all of her wrongs. A pizza and the late, late movie was something Olivia would have suggested only to be countered by Alex’s over the top idea of romance. They were balancing each other from opposite poles now. During all of her anxious remembering she never once took into account that Alex had been living as Olivia would have enjoyed during her exile as a way to be closer to what awaited her back in New York. Alex had finally learned to enjoy the small pleasures that Olivia found so enthralling and even now, she was trying to appease the detective that had put her life on hold for four years and surely missed out on all of her favorite things.

“When do you want to go back to New York?” Olivia did it. She threw down the anvil and waited for the tidal wave. For better or worse, she had to know Alex’s plans.

Alex inhaled sharply, exhaling slowly. The question hung there, waiting for her, but still the only response was the smooth, slow cadence of her breaths. And then finally: “Tomorrow. Is that too soon?”

Olivia looked up from the jutting spring to find Alex smiling at her.  
__

A month later, Lilly had defied the estimates and come back to work early. She did so with a heavy heart, the month prior had done nothing to ease her longings and regrets of the case that had brought her to her knees in more ways than one. And neither did Olivia’s phone call from the terminal of Philadelphia International Airport. She had wasted no time packing her bags and getting the hell out of town. As much as Lilly tried, she could not avoid the terrible sting that accompanied these thoughts of Olivia. So she stuffed her feelings down and filed them away, maybe for a day when she was strong enough to deal with them without feeling the telltale ache in her chest. And once she was transferred home, she did better. Her cats and familiar surroundings fortified her and the PT exercises the doctors prescribed made her stronger physically.

Now, she was being greeted by all manner of coworkers as she made her way past the rows of desks with a slight limp. She would be on desk duty for a month, but it was better than having one-eyed staring contests with her cat back at home, for Lilly abhorred boredom most of all. Finally, she approached her corner of the precinct. Her desk shone like a beacon to a lost sailor and Lilly was pulled towards it. She eased into her desk chair when a voice cooed beside her. 

“Hey Lil,” Scotty Valens flashed his brightest smile at his partner. “Good to see ya.”

“Hey Scotty, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she beamed. 

“I left the case you were working under your desk so you could close it out; didn’t feel right coming back from vacation and closing out your case, especially after what happened.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” 

Relief washed over Lilly as she laid hands on the physical manifestation of the events that had eclipsed her own life and wrestled the box out from under the desk. A lot had happened since she had started the box, now she had a name for it, her anonymous female was finally named—and she had run away with the first woman to catch Lilly’s fancy in a few years, though that was a story for another box—but more than any other case, this was her blood, sweat, and tears in this box. She pulled a thick black marker from her desk drawer and blocked out CABOT and CLOSED on the box. She poured over the contents and finished the paper work before rising and making the long march to the vault with it. She walked amongst the boxes of her life’s work, row after row, aisle after aisle until she stopped at a vacancy. Slowly, she slid the box into place and with one last look, she walked away.  
__


	19. Epilogue

Alex considered the menu before her with a smug smile upon her face. Across from her, Olivia drummed her fingers on the table, with her other hand she pushed the menu back and forth, back and forth until the blonde covered her hand with her own.

“It’s fine,” she said.

Alex was immaculately tailored once again and Olivia was the same as she ever was: in jeans, a knit v-neck top, and white undershirt. Things were as they should be. Except, except, except. It was always something with them. 

Today they would review Olivia’s suspension. In a complete conflict of interest, she was Olivia’s counsel—her license to practice law was just reinstated and though she was once a fixture of the D.A.’s office, she didn’t have many connections there after five years absence. And Olivia didn’t trust lawyers. Sometimes that even held true for herself she thought, still amused, despite Olivia’s perception of the situation. 

“What if they say it hasn’t been long enough?” Olivia straightened in her chair.

“They can’t do that. You’ve followed the rules laid out when they suspended you. You’re fine.”

“But—“ Olivia fidgeted.

“You’re fine.” Alex’s calm, even tone satisfied Olivia for the time being.  
__

Halfway through a sumptuous lunch of duck confit with a cranberry, port jus and wild mushroom risotto Alex was humming to herself. Oh, how she’d missed this. This wasn’t the first time they’d dined out since she’d been back—and back in touch with her money—but it was the first time she did so with her finest suit and her license to practice law fully in tact. Oh, sweet, sweet attainment. All those years she thought she would lay claim to all that was hers again, but she never truly believed it, always fearing death at the next turn. But it had turned out exactly as she had planned, minus one terrifying gunfight, but the rest, the rest she had handled perfectly. 

All those hours at the firing range in obscurity had paid off. In the beginning it surprised her that hunting thugs took a dedication and commitment she was not prepared for and so the first few times Inez had played bait. They were all pigs, preying on the urchins of society in the red light districts of whatever city she found them in. Inez would signal when they were sloppy enough to approach, gaining their attention on the streets, being in need herself, and positioning the stumbling men near the alleyway in which Alex hid. Quietly she would emerge, her aim unsteady, before firing her silenced weapon. Later, when Alex was able to understand the nature of killing and choosing her moment she didn’t need Inez to usher in the cold hand of death. With their attention always so rapt on prostitutes and drugs it became easier to sneak up behind them and fire two shots, evenly spaced, ending their lives and empowering her own. Velez had not come after her because she was out of witness protection. He’d come after her because she used his girlfriend to kill his men. And Inez, she mused, a needless casualty. Inez had lost her life for Alex’s quest and she felt that remorse in the pit of her stomach with each dawn that unfolded. At the moment she searched Inez’s body as its warmth drained away, Alex knew with much certainty that she was next. Only then did she calculate drawing Olivia into the fray with great unease but, it had turned out, Olivia would end up being the best alibi of all. Shooting over the heads of the detectives and Velez’s men proved she had no firearm training to the detectives when in fact, she was quite proficient. She had all those weapons, not for protection, but for killing. And Detective Rush—she was the only one that was even close to catching on, but she was too blinded by Olivia to risk interfering with her belief system. And Olivia, well, dear, sweet Olivia was too blinded by Alex to even follow the rules by which her entire life, up to that point, had been governed.

Alex’s beeper sounded. Olivia looked up from her food.

“We’re on. Decision’s in.” Alex waved at the waiter. “Check please.”  
__

Hours later, over pizza and beer it was Olivia’s turn to celebrate her life being righted. The zombie movie brayed in the background. Alex kept turning the television down every time Olivia would get up to get another beer or use the washroom and every time she would come back she’d ratchet the volume back to its absurd level. Alex dealt with this by laying her feet into Olivia’s lap and enticing her feet to be rubbed; she was still not used to wearing heels. 

And here, in Olivia’s tiny apartment, she felt as comfortable and calm as she did in a three thousand dollar suit strolling through a packed courthouse toward her daily destiny. As small and cramped as Olivia’s was, Alex was content. Her first night back in New York, after they’d made love for the first time in four years Olivia whispered “stay as long as you want” Alex had no plans otherwise. The time spent with Olivia during the past six months had been completely recuperative she felt imbibed with both new life and renewed love for her. Obviously she knew that she missed Olivia, but she never imagined the real size of the chasm left by her. Now, with Olivia beside her, throwing back beers and laughing at grindhouse movies, Alex was imbued with a desperate passion which had gone ignored for far too long. A million years ago, she would have found that an absurd turn-on, but living, as Alex had, for so many months in exile; she came to appreciate the simple comfort of companionship. And Olivia was where it all began and ended for her.

Olivia kneaded Alex’s arch and her eyes fluttered shut. Wow. Half a six pack and she was still patiently attending to Alex’s needs even when her attention, for all intents and purposes, was elsewhere. Soon the “mm’s” and “ah’s” and “oh’s”, which came softly beneath her breath, began to tug Olivia from the grunts, screams and gunshots of her zombie movie. Sleepy and groggy from one too many Heinekens, Olivia leaned over the supine blonde. 

“You’re just doing that to get me to shut it off.” 

“Is it working?”

Olivia clicked off the TV. “You’ll be moaning for my amusement in a minute, Cabot.”

Dear, sweet, Olivia. Particeps criminis.   
__

Fin.


End file.
